


A Little Sex Ed

by SilverRaven33



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Orgasms (Supernatural), Angst, Angst and Feels, Bathtub Sex, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Castiel is (almost) clueless about sex, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Christmas in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Dean Winchester Has Sexuality Realizations, Destiel - Freeform, Eiffel Tower, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, First hand sex ed, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Getting a Kitten, Hand Jobs, I Guess The Guys Are Going To France Now, Kitchen Sex, Lots of Orgasms in General Really, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn with Feelings, Romance in Paris, Slow Romance, Smut, Sweet/Hot, Tenderness, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Wedding Planning, Wing Kink, Wing Worship, lotion as lube, this was supposed to be a one-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRaven33/pseuds/SilverRaven33
Summary: Castiel asks Dean to teach him about sex, and Dean thinks his brain might short circuit, especially since this clearly means more to Cas than just sex. Friggin angel. Friggin feelings. And This. Was not. Supposed to. Be hot.Pretty much what it says on the tin; Dean shows Cas how to jerk off while realizing this goes a lot deeper than that, for both of them. Had to get around to some angel and hunter smut sooner or later lol.Addition to summary: And this. Was not. Supposed to. Be multiple chapters. LOL. These two would demand a full blown love story with something like a plot and everything. Guys, you're killing me...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 115
Kudos: 556





	1. Teach Me

When Dean had told Cas to make himself comfortable at the bunker, he hadn’t thought that would mean wandering into his room whenever he wanted. Though, in retrospect, he supposed he should have seen it coming. He’d almost yelled at the angel about it; it had been far too long since he’d had a room of his own and didn’t he deserve his own space at this point? But Sam had stopped him, saying that he needed to quit being so harsh with Cas. The guy had been through a lot, and most of it because of them. He wasn’t wrong. So Dean just grumbled instead of yelled and tried to deal. 

But now with Cas busy in the library for the afternoon, following some research rabbit hole about the Loch Ness monster which he’d lately taken a fancy to, Dean figured he should have a chance to relax for a bit. He set the turntable to spinning, slipped his headphones on, and stretched out on his bed, eyes closed. Nothing like a little Zeppelin to make any day better. He was so lost in the driving guitars halfway through Kashmir that he didn’t know Cas had even entered the room. 

That was, until his hunter senses tingled and he opened his eyes to see the angel laying next to him, on his back with his shoulder nearly touching Dean’s, just staring at the ceiling. This was not that large of a bed. 

“I didn’t mean to disturb your listening,” Cas said when he noticed Dean notice him. The man reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and silently asked a non-existent god for patience. Then he slid the headphones off, missing Robert Plant’s wailing immediately. 

“Cas, we’ve talked about this. Personal space. Remember?” To be fair, Cas did look contrite at this, and at least he’d taken off the trench coat and laid it over a chair. Dean always thought he looked rather naked without it, which was ridiculous, as he still had his full suit on. But when he spoke, it was with a typical Cas response, which is to say, no real response at all. 

“You were right, this memory foam is quite something,” Cas told him conversationally, like it was normal to be testing out your friend’s bed in the middle of the day. With your friend in it. Dean exhaled deeply, unable to keep his annoyance completely at bay any longer.

“Cas, what do you want?” he asked. He felt like he’d been more than accommodating to the recuperating angel, how much more could he really be expected to take? 

He watched Cas out of the corner of his eye since he refused to fully turn his head his way. The guy was just too close, and this was just too much, and he was just too…

“Dean, I want you to teach me about sex.” 

Too Cas. Only Castiel would, could, say something like that. With no regard for what was considered acceptable or even decent. It took Dean a moment to grope for an answer.

“I thought porn was doing an admirable job of that. It’s how the rest of us learn, man.” He heard the rush of skin and hair on fabric and knew that Cas had turned his head to look at him. Dean would not reciprocate. In fact, he inched his body over as far as he could go to the edge of his bed. It was his bed, damn it, he shouldn’t have to get up. 

“I may not know as much as I should by now,” Cas replied, “But I do know enough to know that the pizza man doesn’t know everything.” Dean had to work his way through this sentence. 

“So I was hoping, since you have more real world experience...maybe you could teach me?” this magnificently oblivious angel concluded on a hopeful note. And a careful peak at his honest face told Dean he was dead serious. Of course he was. Cas barely even knew how to joke. 

And it was this innocence, this inability to deceive, that always broke Dean’s defenses. He could get annoyed by Cas’s naivety, could mock his lack of understanding of everyday life on Earth, but what he never admitted out loud was just how damn endearing it was. For all of Castiel’s raw power and badassery, he was still somehow a gentle soul that Dean responded to in the way Winchesters did: protection mode. There was a vulnerability in Cas’s request now that Dean found hard to ignore. This one just wasn’t that simple, though. Dean finally turned his head enough to look back at those impossibly blue eyes staring at him, like they always did.

“Dude, I don’t know if I can. I mean, sex is between a man and a woman,” he tried for an escape route, though in the back of his mind he knew that wasn’t strictly true. Of course homosexuals did the nasty too, and Dean didn’t care what they did as long as he didn’t have to watch. In his own personal world, sex should involve at least one woman. 

“Isn’t it best if it’s an expression of love?” Cas asked, and this was getting far too deep. Of course the guy would have that notion; he was a damn angel with idealistic views of certain things. Dean didn’t know how, after a couple years of rolling with him and Sam, that he could still hold onto any of those lingering ideas, but he managed to. Dean considered; anyone else he would have almost laughed at and been quick to correct. But there was just something about Cas, and the sweet way he could actually believe in this, that held Dean’s tongue. 

“I suppose it can be,” he said, then added as an afterthought, “Maybe it should be.” With the record having spun to its end by now so that not even the muffled trickle of music coming out of the headphones disturbed the silence in the room, Dean could actually hear Cas swallow before he spoke again. 

“I don’t love a woman, Dean.” The straightforward weight in his tone, and the more than intense gaze directly into Dean’s eyes at such close range clarified what Cas meant. And what Dean had known for a long time by now if he could manage to be honest with himself for more than two goddamn minutes. There had been far too much time spent together that didn’t strictly need to be, far too many comments that openly smacked of devotion, far too many stares that could only be called affectionate, just like he was receiving now. Dean would have to be blind to not have seen it. 

The problem was he’d never thought about it enough to decide what he was going to do about it. So it had become the backdrop, almost, of his and Cas’s friendship, him telling himself that it was only friendship. But now Cas was crossing that line, something Dean honestly hadn’t prepared for. Words about plenty of women on the planet to love, that not all love had to be of a sexual or romantic nature, etc, etc, came to Dean’s lips and then died. He knew better, and what was worse, he liked it. 

Driving along blasting AC/DC in his baby on the way to the next job, slicing off snarling heads with a satisfying spray of blood, downing his eighth whiskey of the night in celebration, he could ignore it. It was what he did. Underneath all of his bluff, bravado, sarcasm, and fighting tactics, however, way underneath all of them, Dean was a weak soul that needed love just like anyone else. And Cas was more than willing to give it to him; had been doing so for who knew how long; hell, maybe even since the beginning when he’d raised him from Hell. 

Dean had to acknowledge that if not for Cas’s love and devotion, Dean wouldn’t be alive, and neither would Sammy. In the face of that, how could he deny the angel if he just wanted to learn something about sex? 

While these thoughts chased themselves around Dean’s head, Cas had been blinking at him patiently, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell into Dean’s mind and life. Dean took a slow, deep breath, disbelieving that he was really going here. 

“Okay, well, have you...pleasured yourself at all?” He made sure he spoke less coursely than he would have to anyone else. There was something about talking to an angel, and a guy who believed in love, that seemed to demand it. Cas gave a small gentle smile.

“Well, I am pleased every time I watch the bees gathering pollen, or every night that you get a good night’s sleep, or...” 

“Not - quite what I mean,” Dean interrupted with a shake of his head, closing his eyes for a moment. Apparently he was going to have to be a little more blunt. Cas was giving him that curious, trusting look, clearly ready to learn. Dean felt woefully inadequate at the prospect of this.

“I mean, do you touch yourself?” He really hoped he wasn’t going to have to break it down more than that, but he knew Cas, and he feared the worst. 

“Touch myself?” the angel asked. “You mean here?” And his hand went to the front of his slacks, cupping his junk through the fabric. Dean had to let out a nervous little laugh. What in his life could possibly have led to this moment?

“Yeah, that’s...that’s the part you generally use for sex,” Dean told him, a tickle of heat breaking out on the back of his neck for no reason whatsoever. This was just Cas. Whose smile had turned enigmatic in response. 

“Well, I knew that,” he said, with what Dean swore was a twinkle in those blue eyes. Was it possible the bastard was toying with him after all? 

“Okay. So, you should try…” Dean stopped because Cas was undoing his belt, opening his fly, and slipping his hand down the front of his pants, to where a bulge was just beginning to make itself known. It took Dean a moment to realize that he was staring. Staring at an angel’s crotch. He swallowed and glanced away, hoping Cas hadn’t noticed. 

“What now?” Cas asked honestly, looking into Dean’s eyes with his hand down his pants, on his dick, which Dean verified with a quick glance down and then back up. This. Was not. Supposed to. Be hot. Dean’s hips shifted almost instinctively as they tried to allow for the slow tightening in his jeans that he was doing his best to ignore. 

“Well, you…” How did one explain how to jerk off? Dean was no smutty fan fiction writer, and he was fresh out of paperbacks and sex manuals, as luck would have it. He only let himself consider the situation for half of a second before he reached for his own button and fly. He was back to not being able to look at Cas as he shoved his pants and boxer briefs down far enough for access, but his eyes did stray when he wrapped his calloused fingers around his hardening cock. Just to see if Cas was following his example. Really. 

The angel was; he had pushed down his boxers, which were a plain boring hospital white of course, mimicking Dean to a fault. And his hand was grasping his cock, which was harder than Dean’s already, not that Dean was paying that much attention. Apparently this was actually happening. 

His face feeling much too warm, Dean worked himself to a full erection, which was far easier to do than he’d been hoping under the circumstances. He could hear Castiel’s heavier breathing already, and he let himself try to recall what it was like to jerk off for the first time. Rather confusing, messy, and over much too quick, but decidedly exciting, were the main components of the vague memory.

He risked another glance at Cas’s hard on, assessing - that was the word, assessing, because it wasn’t admiring, oh no - the hard length moving underneath the angel’s careful fingers. Dean’s own hand slowed a bit on himself as he observed his friend’s movements, and he immediately noticed that Cas’s hand slowed as well. Daring to flit his eyes up to Castiel’s face, he saw the angel’s gaze was locked on Dean’s cock, observing how he was touching himself. He had wanted to learn, after all. So Dean shifted his hips, getting more comfortable, and laid back as if he was alone in bed, just enjoying any other good afternoon yank. 

His dick certainly appreciated the attention; it had been too long since he’d had enough energy to spare to go pick up a woman, and living almost constantly with your little brother didn’t leave much option for solo privacy. It had gotten somewhat better since they had the bunker and their own rooms but too often he still had to settle for a hurried pull or two in the shower to hold him over, same as he guessed Sam did, before he went on with his day. It was rare to take his time, to appreciate being able to vary his speed and pressure, to close his eyes and feel the slow build up. 

Cas’s barely controlled panting brought Dean back outside his own body, but he didn’t stop the motions of his fist as he broke his rule and looked over at the other man. 

“This does feel - extremely good,” Cas shared with him between breaths, and Dean couldn’t help but give him a cocky grin. Cas’s hand was now only slightly unsure as he jerked himself, the angel was clearly learning fast and his cock was... _ fuck _ . 

This was too far gone for Dean to deny that this was hot as hell. Cas was still wearing that stupid suit and tie, and Dean couldn’t help but imagine the angel actually naked next to him, being able to watch his arm muscles as they moved his hand up and down, and his chest as it sucked in those heavy breaths. He had to look away again, but he could still hear the palm on skin, the panting, the frantic rustle of cloth, and he didn’t know at this point if those were coming from him or Cas. 

“There’s liquid,” Cas said curiously, his voice sounding wrecked already, and Dean hoped for him that this wasn’t his climax quite yet, though it couldn’t be far off. Dean looked down at Cas’s cock, more deliberately than he had thus far, and felt a fresh surge of arousal at the sight. Cas was huge, and rock hard, and Dean could almost see the flesh throbbing, the swollen tip covered in precome. 

“That’s...that’s normal,” he told him, his own voice none too steady. “You can use it,” he instructed, and felt Cas’s heavy gaze on him. He wordlessly proceeded to show Cas how to swipe his thumb over the leaking slit and spread the liquid over the end of his cock, and Cas was a good student. 

“Ohhh,” the angel nearly moaned, and Dean watched his hand speed up of its own accord, no longer taking every cue from his friend. Instead, Dean found himself following Cas’s lead and moving faster. He knew it was not going to be much longer for him, and even sooner for Cas. 

“Just go with it,” Dean encouraged tightly. “Let yourself go.” And then Cas was making a mess of that dress shirt, thick white come pumping out of his cock for the first time, body shuddering through his orgasm. Dean felt his balls draw up at the erotic sight, he was going to follow in less than a handful of seconds. 

Unwittingly but not unwillingly, Dean’s eyes were drawn upwards to Cas’s beautiful - yes, screw it: beautiful - face, with its skin flushed, bluer than blue eyes half closed, breath puffing out in gasps from those full open lips. The breath was violently ripped out of Dean’s lungs as he realized he wanted to lean over and capture that mouth with his own, to feel the press of those lips, to kiss an angel. And he knew Cas would let him, would welcome him in and learn to kiss as well as he’d learned this. So Dean bit down hard on his own bottom lip instead, and focused on chasing his climax. He came a second later as Cas’s eyes fluttered all the way open, still watching him intently. 

“Oh god Cas,” he let out, barely knowing he said it while he painted his hand and tee shirt in hot spurts. His muscles relaxed gratefully as he sank into the bed, blindly groping for a handful of sheet to wipe the worst of the mess up with. It had been a long time since jerking off had felt that good. 

“That was educational,” Cas’s voice came, and somehow Dean had forgotten he was so close. Quite close enough to…

“I’m glad,” Dean weakly laughed, feeling almost lightheaded and dare he think it; giddy. 

“And quite enjoyable. Thank you, Dean.” 

There was a sudden pang in the general vicinity of the hunter’s ribs, and he hoped this speech didn’t mean the angel was disappearing right away. It would be like him, to not understand the implication that it was okay to lie here for a bit together after such a shared experience. Wait a second, Dean asked himself, it was? 

“Don’t go,” Dean found his mouth saying. He lazily shoved himself back into his boxer briefs and lifted his hips to pull his jeans up, not bothering with the zipper or fly. Cas was still laying there prone, his come spattered on his clothes and hand. This was certainly an interesting vision Dean had never expected to behold. Again, he had the insane urge to kiss him, though perhaps this time on the forehead or the cheek. He made himself swing out of bed and stand. 

“Stay there,” he reminded Cas, even though the angel had made no sign of moving. Dean stepped into the bathroom, ran the water till it was hot, and dampened a hand towel. Taking the pleasantly warm cloth back to Cas, he laid it over his friend’s hand almost reverently, taking care not to come in contact with any skin. 

“Clean yourself up with that a little,” he told him. “Jizz stains. We’ll do laundry later.” 

“Thank you,” Cas said once more earnestly, as if Dean had given him something of far greater value than a wet cloth. And maybe he had. 

Dean affectionately rolled his eyes away as he left Cas to wipe himself. His heart seemed to be pumping in an odd erratic rhythm, his emotions strung on a wire. What was he going to do with this angel? He had a feeling that was a loaded question, as his mind had already started running away with horrible, naughty, wonderful ideas. 


	2. On The Edge Of The Precipice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cleaning up afterwards and lots of feelings for Dean. See notes at beginning of chapter for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So somehow this one shot wanted to be a full blown love story. I'm not the kind of writer that can do smut or porn without big feels behind it so I guess I shouldn't be surprised, and especially with our Dean and Cas, the love they hold for each other is so strong I can't ever see it being just sex for them.
> 
> That being said, this chapter doesn't really have any action in it, as opposed to the last one, so just be aware.   
> Features somewhat domesticDean, caringDean, fantasizingDean, coming-to-terms-with-his-feelingsDean and Cas just being adorable.

“Angels don’t need to shower,” was the response Dean received for suggesting Cas take one. Naturally. Dude was nothing but pragmatic, except when it came to small fuzzy creatures, his favorite TV shows, or making sure Dean was safe. 

“I - I know,” Dean said, blinking at his friend. “But just do it anyway. It feels nice after...that.” He couldn’t quite not flush as he referred to their activities of less than an hour ago. They’d jerked off together, which was mild compared to a lot of the lewder things he’d done in his sex life with a multitude of partners, but the issue was none of them had been a dude, and certainly none of them had been Castiel. 

“Okay. I trust you, Dean,” Cas said simply, and rarely had a truer statement been spoken. It was partially what had gotten Dean into this literal mess in the first place. A soft smile sprung to the hunter’s lips and he turned away so that Cas might not see. 

“I’ll start your clothes washing while you’re in there,” Dean offered. “Just leave them outside the bathroom,” he followed up quickly as Cas immediately started shrugging out of his suit jacket. He wouldn’t be surprised anymore if Cas began stripping all his clothes off in front of Dean. Not that Dean would particularly mind at this point...wait - he halted his thoughts with an effort. This whole good-god-Cas-is-really-fucking-hot thing was new, there was time to ease into...whatever all of these weird feelings meant. 

“Don’t you want to get in the shower, too?” Cas asked before he left the bedroom, and Dean’s heartbeat gave a stutter at these words. He looked up from taking the sheet off of his bed to study Cas’s face, but the angel’s expression was unreadable. For one thing, he couldn’t have meant it like  _ that _ , and for another, how had Dean never noticed that subtle little dimple in his chin before, that seemed like it would be the perfect size for Dean’s thumb? 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll take mine after yours,” Dean got out. But now, as Cas gave a little nod and headed down the circular hall in the direction of the bathroom, Dean couldn’t shake the new fantasy the most likely innocent words had conjured. 

These fantasies were coming at him a bit hard and fast, though this one was just too easy. Dean went about getting ready to start a load of laundry, pulling off his own shirt that he’d gotten come on, and finding it impossible not to think about Cas, just a couple rooms away, buck naked and about to be all wet. He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. 

No rush, he reminded himself. This wasn’t one of his usual one night stands or dirty flings; about as far as he could get from them in fact. Cas probably wouldn’t even want company in the shower, Dean thought, and proceeded to hope the guy had had the sense to close the bathroom door. He did, and he’d left his clothes in a pile on the floor of the hall, so Dean stooped to pick them up and add them to the small bundle in his arms. 

Look at him, being all domestic. Truthfully, he enjoyed having a place to call home, a base to work from, being able to just go to the utility room to do laundry rather than hang out at a laundromat. He’d even be good and wash Cas’s whites separately, something he didn’t do with his own clothes. He tossed the boxers in the machine quickly, absolutely refusing to contemplate how oddly intimate of an act he was performing for their owner, but then he caught himself after he buttoned up the shirt so it would wash properly. 

Casting a glance over his shoulder for no reason, he knew he was alone - Sam was still on a supply run and Cas was obviously busy - he allowed himself to lift the collar of the dress shirt to his face and buried his nose in it. He was merely curious, that was all. Did an angel even have a smell? A strange mix of comfort and longing washed over Dean as he inhaled deeply of the cotton.

Slightly stale sweat, a hint of parchment paper, Sam’s cheap shaving cream (and correlating that scent with sexy was going to be a whole other problem he might bring up in that therapy session he was never going to have), and a last unidentifiable but strong something that Dean could only label grace, like a combination of roses and steel. This symphony of smells crept into his soul, and just like that Dean was a man who was standing there pining, wanting, on the edge of a precipice that only wanted the brush of an angel’s wing to finish the job. 

Dean shoved the shirt in the washing machine and started the small load, making sure to use hot water and the right amount of soap. Keeping his hands busy was good, it helped him ignore this loud drumming of his heart. His ticker seemed to be doing a lot of weird things lately. Maybe Sammy was right, maybe he needed to start eating better. Nah. 

The suit itself would of course have to be dry cleaned if he was doing this the right way, and while it hadn’t strictly gotten anything on it during their, um, lesson, Dean figured it might be a good idea for the clothes that Cas never usually took off. He grabbed a hanger and got them ready to go, then wandered towards the kitchen for a beer while he waited for the laundry to be ready to be switched, or the shower to open up, whichever came first. 

The familiar chink and hiss of the cap coming off the beer bottle helped calm Dean’s nerves as he tried to keep his mind off of his annoying emotions. Maybe he should have grabbed a glass of whiskey, or that expensive gin that Garth had sent him for his last birthday. Surely the occasion of being utterly distracted by an angel’s eyes and cock and scent warranted it. But Dean stuck with his beer, beginning to pace the library and thought about opening up the laptop to search for a case. That’s what he needed; to work, to channel his energy towards something useful, like killing instead of falling...no - he couldn’t even think the words. 

His steps brought him to the books Castiel had left lying open on one end of the library table and after taking a healthy swig of beer, Dean had to smile. The Loch Ness monster. Every couple of days it was another creature with Cas, whether commonly found like guinea pigs of all things, or something more exotic like a Scottish water beast. 

The angel was fascinated with all of them, and Sam and Dean had told him on more than one occasion that you couldn’t keep a meerkat or an elephant or a dragon as a pet. The dude would really like the zoo, Dean thought, an affectionate ripple going through his chest as he imagined taking him and the wonder that would blossom on that too often concerned and worried face as he saw each new animal. Dean finished his beer, wondering if he was actually planning a date. Surely not, just an...outing...for the angel. He needed it after the shit he’d been through, hell maybe they both did. 

He retrieved another beer and returned to the library, flopping into one of the leather chairs, scratching at his still bare chest and sighing. How much longer was Cas going to take in the damn shower anyway? Dean did want to clean himself up too, and like Cas had said, it wasn’t like angels even needed to wash their bodies. Unless he was doing other things in there, and Dean’s pulse sped up a touch at this thought. It would make sense, he mused, now that the guy knew how to get himself off, that he would enjoy doing it a little too much, just like every other guy did.

Dean’s mind flashed, not wholly against his will, to the image of Cas’s hand touching himself, his cock hard again, heavy, hanging thickly in the shower while Cas braced his other hand against the tiled wall, water splashing as he worked his fist frantically...Dean unconsciously licked his lips and gulped down some more beer, trying not to recognize this latest emotion. This couldn’t be jealousy that was being stirred up that Cas might be pleasuring himself without him, no, more like woe that Dean was missing out. Neither was good, the guy could do what he wanted with his own body, right? But this rationalization didn’t ward off the heat that was pooling in Dean’s belly. 

He realized he’d never seen the guy shirtless, and he suddenly, desperately, wanted that to change. His eyes boring into the dark amber color of his beer bottle, his mind ran away with what Cas’s bare shoulders might look like, shower water cascading down them, pounding against what was surely a muscled back and trickling southward from there. He had seen the angel’s chest when his shirt had been torn open and he’d been stabbed of course, but Dean randomly remembered now that he hadn’t seemed to have much hair under the blood. Dean’s fist gripped the bottle tighter as his fingers twitched with the idea of running over that smooth skin and how Cas might react to the caress. 

The sharp metallic clang of the bunker door opening jolted him out of his erotic reverie, and his brother’s voice calling out a greeting cleared his head the rest of the way.

“Hey,” Sam hollered as his heavy steps clomped down the stairs, his hands full of grocery sacks that he set on the map table for the time being. Dean had instinctively grabbed the nearest book, pulling it towards him while sitting up straighter. 

“Hey!” he clipped brightly. Everything was normal, perfectly normal. He looked up to see his brother giving him a confused stare.

“Is it warm in here or something?” Sam asked. It was, actually, Dean thought wildly, but he knew why Sam was asking. It wasn’t like Dean to hang around without a shirt on, and he shot out the first explanation that came to him, which was the truth.

“I’m just waiting for the shower,” he explained, to which Sam’s brow wrinkled even deeper. 

“Cas,” Dean’s lips formed almost against his will, and he immediately felt as if he’d exposed all the secrets of the Men of Letters to the devil himself. Which was ridiculous. 

“Okay,” Sam said, clearly still confused but apparently not enough to question it. “Well, you want to help me in the meantime? I made sure I stocked us up for a while.” He was pointing with his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the door. 

“Yes,” Dean said, still too enthusiastically, downing the rest of his beer and standing up. He was honestly just happy to have something to do to keep busy. 

“Dean, it’s October. It’s kinda chilly out there,” Sam shared, still obviously referring to his brother’s shirtless status. Dean didn’t answer before heading out to the car. Good. Maybe the air would help with this fever that had seemed to settle on him. He didn’t see the slight head shake Sam gave his weird behavior as he followed him.

Dean was carrying a load of bags from the map room to the kitchen when Cas finally showed up, stepping into the library from the hallway, and Dean almost dropped them. Cas was standing there in nothing but a dark red towel wrapped around his hips and in spite of the beer he’d just drank, Dean’s throat was suddenly dry. The so recently fantasized about shoulders and chest and biceps and Dean hadn’t even remotely considered how sexy his collarbone might be; his very skin, it was right there, and still damp, and...so much of it. The hunter could feel his eyes widen as his heart started that stupid thundering thing again.

“Get back in my room. Now,” Dean ordered, somehow finding his voice, only realizing belatedly how wrong that sounded, especially with Sam right there. But his angel needed to get clothes on, now.  _ His _ angel? He’d analyze that later. Or not. 

“Hi Sam,” Cas said as innocently as ever like there was nothing wrong with only wearing a towel in the middle of the bunker. 

“Hey, Cas,” Sam returned, a little hesitantly. Dean was going to go into cardiac arrest if this went on much longer, and thankfully Cas must have seen the alarm in his face because he turned away to head back down the hallway. A carefully measured breath, and then Dean all but threw the bags onto the kitchen counter. 

“You okay, dude?” Sam asked him, not surprisingly, but Dean left without replying. Arriving at his room, he took another deep breath before he entered. He still wasn’t ready for all of whatever this was; all this desire and these feelings and that deep pull of nameless need. So he didn’t look at Cas while he dug out clothes from his closet and dresser and tossed them on the bed for him. He’d been an idiot not to realize the angel only had the clothes he’d been wearing. 

“You can wear some of my stuff for now,” he told Cas and tore back out of the room without ever really looking at him. Dean locked the bathroom door behind him, noting that the mirror was still foggy. He started the water for himself, stripped down, and was finally able to step into the shower. He let the spray relax his body, and tried to make his mind follow. His thoughts drifted, lost in the rush of hot pattering water and fresh steam. 

Cas had been in here, moments ago, naked as Dean was now and the warmth that had been blossoming in his lower belly spread throughout the man’s body and limbs, comfortable now like sunbeams instead of a prickling fever. Was there anything wrong, really, with wanting the angel like this? Really? They were two consenting adults. He would never do anything Cas wasn’t okay with, of course. He trusted, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Cas would be...well, whatever Dean needed him to be, even if Dean didn’t know what that was. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

Dean could admit to himself, locked away in here alone, that there was something that felt right about all of this. He’d been fighting it for so long, he realized that there was a certain amount of relief to be found now that Cas had opened this can of worms and dragged it into the light. An absolutely terrifying sense of relief, but that counted, right?

Knowing he couldn’t hide in the shower all day, Dean gave himself a good scrub down, got out, got dressed, and wondered where Cas had gotten to. After checking the other main rooms of the bunker, and swinging by to switch the laundry, he found the angel in Sam’s room, watching another episode of Seinfeld. Sam had given him permission to watch the TV in there anytime, unless Sam was actively sleeping. Dean vowed to get a TV in his own room by the next day. 

He leaned in the doorway, his eyes watching Cas closely as his heart squeezed softly in his chest. Cas’s dark hair was uncombed and messy and begging for Dean’s fingers to be wound in it. The sight of his old Aerosmith tee, his black and white flannel shirt, and a pair of jeans that had a rip in the left knee on this normally so put together angel sent a burst of protective affection through Dean. He looked downright cuddly, sitting there at the end of Sam’s bed, and then he threw his head back in a carefree laugh at one of Kramer’s antics. 

As Cas looked back at the TV again, his eye was caught by his admirer in the doorway and the smile already on his face deepened as he looked at Dean, blue eyes sparkling. Dean returned the grin easily, knowingly being brushed off the edge of that precipice and beyond minding in the slightest. 


	3. Not Particularly Careful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The attempt of distraction-by-job, Sam's not totally blind, and Cas misses Dean.

The familiar low roar of the Impala underneath him as they sped through the night was supposed to feel like home, as comforting as the blood pumping through his veins. Dean loved his baby, he really did. But right now she was taking him, mile by mile, farther and farther away from _him,_ and while Dean was thankful to be on his way to kill something, there was a part of him that was still back at the bunker. 

“You seem distracted,” Sam noted. Dean spared him an annoyed glance then centered his gaze back on the center of the dark road, the yellow line reflecting in the headlights. 

“You sure the Mark didn’t leave any lasting effects?” his little brother pushed. “I mean, it would make sense if it did.” 

“I’m fine,” Dean all but snapped. He’d finally gotten free of the Mark, he didn’t need to be reminded of it. Or reminded that his thoughts were straying, and he very well couldn’t tell Sam why. Damn his little bro for always being so observant. 

“Does this have anything to do with Cas?”

“What?” came out, too sharp. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean restrained his foot from leaning into the gas pedal more than a touch. There was no outrunning this, but it was still his instinct to try.

“Dude, you guys have been weird these past couple of days.” A pause. “Like, weirder than normal.” 

Dean had no idea what Sam was talking about. Just cause he’d gone out and suddenly bought a TV for his room when he’d sworn against the idea in the past and had dry cleaned Cas’s suit but waited a day to give it back to him so he could enjoy how adorable he was in normal clothes for a bit longer and had stopped picking on him for anything at all, didn’t mean anything. He’d just decided he would be nicer to the guy for a change, that’s all. What Dean didn’t understand was why it wasn’t working. 

Since that day that had derailed Dean’s buried emotions, Cas hadn’t seemed to be following him around as much as he used to. When they were in the same room, Dean would try to surreptitiously catch his eye but Cas wouldn’t play ball, even though Dean could sense that intense gaze boring into him whenever he’d look away. 

This job had come up at a good time, an unusual death by a household Halloween decoration, over in Indiana. Something to get Dean out of the bunker and away from everything. Or so he thought. 

“You’re crazy,” he shot at Sam, knowing he had to toss some sort of answer out.

“I live with the two of you,” Sam bit back with a smirk. “Anybody would be. But seriously,” he continued to press, “Did you guys have another fight or something? What happened that day I went shopping?” 

The Impala sped up at this, tuned to Dean’s unconscious reactions, her owner only able to keep so much control. 

“Nothing,” Dean returned, pretty sure his voice was steady. 

Then, “What do you mean, weirder than normal?” he had to ask, undeniably nervous of the potential answer. But Sam did live with them, and if he had picked up on something, maybe it would be better to have it in the open. There was a longer pause as Sam shifted in the passenger seat, making himself more comfortable and his thoughts so loud Dean could almost hear him weighing them. Hours upon countless hours in a car with someone would do that to you.

“Nothing,” Sam finally said with an air of soft finality, at least for the moment, and Dean sent up a silent thanks to no one in particular. 

Another little town, another motel room, another diner breakfast, and the Impala was parked in front of another quaint suburban home. Sam was in the house, inserting himself into the crime scene and assessing if the murder sounded like their kind of deal. Dean was waiting in the car, on lookout and backup duty, when he heard a faint rush of air that he hadn’t heard in a long time. The reflection of a shock of dark messy hair in the rearview mirror was his second clue. 

Dean twisted around to peer into the backseat, his hand holding tight to the steering wheel to ground himself like only his baby could do. His heart turned over at the sight that met his widening eyes. 

“I borrowed your clothes again. I hope you don’t mind.” Castiel did indeed have the band tee on, the flannel, the jeans, and Dean was so happy to see him it almost hurt. But. 

“Is everything okay?” Dean asked, worry washing over him. It wasn’t like Cas to suddenly show up unless there was an immediate threat. 

Cas’s eyes widened in turn, big soft pools that Dean could lose himself in if he wasn’t careful. He wasn’t feeling particularly careful lately. 

“I missed you,” the confession came, deep and open and simple. Relief and longing twined together crashed over Dean in a wave, and he barely had the presence of mind to scan the quiet street and make sure Sam at least wasn’t on his way back to the car. Screw anyone else. 

And then Dean was climbing into the back seat, wrinkling his suit, scuffing his baby’s console with his shoe, quite beyond caring. He needed, needed to be closer to Cas. The angel didn’t miss a beat; where most anyone else would have at least looked surprised at Dean’s behavior, Cas just studied his face as steadily as ever as the man came to be sitting in his lap, straddling Cas’s thighs with his own. There was a comfort in that; the idea that not much could rattle Cas, that he’d catch Dean almost no matter what. Of course, he’d been doing exactly that for years already. 

Dean’s breath was shaky and his body tense as he held himself precariously on the angel’s knees, unsure of how far to go, what his next move should be. If Cas were a random woman, Dean would be kissing his way down her throat by now. But Dean wouldn’t have recklessly climbed into a random woman’s lap in the middle of the day, in the middle of a case. He could not stop staring at the angel, the even dusting of dark hair on his jaw, that Dean had to wonder how it would feel under his fingers; the pulse point in his neck that Dean could swear was thumping almost as fast as his own regardless of Cas’s outwardly calm demeanor; the subtle wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, which deepened just a touch as Cas’s lips quirked upwards in a soft grin. 

“I missed you too,” tumbled out of Dean’s mouth. This was getting harder, not easier, being this close, closer than he ever had been, to Cas. More, more, more, pounded through Dean’s head, and if time could stand still, it would have been. Cas’s smile grew warmer, quite as warm as the body heat between the two men. Dean’s hands had thus far been braced against the top of the backseat for balance, but they were going to start slipping, slipping down onto the angel’s shoulders, and there just wasn’t anything Dean could do about it anymore. He drew a ragged breath, and something inside him finally, blessedly, let go.

“Can I kiss you?” Dean’s voice was rough, almost broken but barely held together. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” the whisper came, soft as a feather floating to the ground. Dean moved forward, as gently as he could, taking one last gulp with his eyes of Cas’s devotion shining back at him before he closed them and the distance between their lips. If this was what communion tasted like, he should have done it long ago. Cas’s lips responded to him instantly, eager and welcoming as Dean had rather figured they might be, but oh, it was unlike anything he’d been able to imagine. He’d read some questionable books in times of extreme boredom that likened a kiss to lightning, to sparks flying, and he’d scoffed at them. It was a kiss, not a car battery.

Maybe it was because Castiel was an angel, but sonofabitch if there wasn’t lightning. And thunder. And just...the closest thing to perfection that Dean had ever felt. He was trying to be careful, to hold himself back a little, with his logical brain barely hanging on. As their lips pressed and slid together in a dance that Dean had thought he knew until now, he was almost overcome by the pull of need wracking him. On some level, he was aware that his fingers were finally in Cas’s soft hair at the back of his skull, and that there was a beyond strong hand gripping his thigh. Dean’s body had slid forward naturally and blood was rapidly pumping to his groin that had somehow come to be almost flush with the angel’s. 

And this was just a simple kiss, they hadn’t even...and then Cas deepened it, opening to Dean, soft and hard and wet all at once, and Dean didn’t even know that he moaned in desperation. Or maybe that was Cas. The angel tasted like sweet mint and the steel of a clean blade, and his tongue was eager, pliant, hungry. Dean felt himself spinning, his ears ringing. If he didn’t come up for air, he was going to be lost forever. It took all his control to pull back, to hope that he hadn’t been too much for Cas, too pushy, too demanding. 

All Dean could do was catch his breath and stare at Cas’s full wet lips for a moment, terrified to meet the angel’s eyes but also perfectly happy with where his gaze currently was. His entire body was thrumming. And the ringing was persisting. 

“Dean,” Cas’s voice was low, more intimate than it made any sense to be with the sunlight slanting in through the windows of the car.

“Your phone,” Cas said, incongruently, and suddenly the sharp piercing made sense, stabbing through the fog in Dean’s mind. Phone. Somewhere in the front seat. The ringing stopped but then immediately started again. With an apologetic glance at Cas, Dean made himself clamber off his lap and back into the front seat. 

“Yeah,” he answered Sam’s call, hoping he sounded halfway close to normal. There was no way after that.

“What were you doing?” Sam’s voice was balanced between worried and annoyed.

“Eating,” was Dean’s knee jerk response. Well, he had been nibbling on a little something. 

“I thought we were gonna - never mind,” Sam broke off. “I need you to come talk to the constable. I have a feeling he knows something he’s not letting on, and I want to question the widow.” 

“I bet you do,” Dean teased, slipping back into his smartass persona as best and as quickly as he could. “Be right there,” he promised and hit the end button.

“I should go,” came Cas’s voice from the backseat and before Dean could even finish raising his head to get a last glance at his personal kryptonite, the familiar flutter sounded, and he was gone. He’d always left a sudden vacancy behind when he’d disappeared, but this was more like a gaping, aching hole now. At least he’d announced his departure this time; that was an improvement.

Dean knew he had to get moving, to continue working the job, but he took just one more moment to recover. With the tight, hot situation in his pants he wasn’t going to be able to walk straight just yet anyway. The Red Sox’s stats, the steps of changing the oil on his car, Charlene Floyd’s braces in middle school. Dean took a breath, steering his mind forcibly from his favorite angel and those ungodly heavenly lips. He could do this. Focus.


	4. Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's falling deeper and deeper, and Cas is, as always, there for it. Comfort, affection, and more kisses.

What the hell. Had he been thinking. He’d gotten permission but still. 

Dean and Sam were only an hour from home, the job done, the spirit killed, and Dean had been driving all night. They’d had to beat it out of town when the local cops got a little too suspicious and they hadn’t stopped other than for gas to be on the safe side. Dean was exhausted, his eyelids close to drooping, and he knew he should let Sam take this last stretch. His thoughts were wired, though, keeping him somewhat alert. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss that was so much more than a kiss, or at least had been to him. Paranoia had reared its ugly head once he started turning it over in his mind. Why did Cas leave so quickly, other than that’s just what he did? Had Dean been too much, even though he’d been trying to be careful? He’d friggin climbed into the guy’s lap without warning. Should he have waited till Cas had initiated more physical contact? Probably. He was the one that had started this whole thing. And if Cas was feeling better enough to teleport again, that meant he had the option of not being at the bunker when the guys got back. That idea was the one he hated the most.

Hell, Dean hated all this uncertainty but it fueled him through the rest of the drive. He dragged his feet following Sam inside, grateful to be home and craving his bed but not sure he wanted to know if Cas had really taken off. It would be all right even if he had, Dean told himself, he wasn’t a prisoner and it’s not like he wouldn’t come back. Dean was really taking this attachment thing too far. Well, he never really did do anything halfway.

He didn’t let his bleary eyes search for light until he’d hit the last step of the staircase, and though he did see a glow coming from the hall off of the library, it was the cozy scent in the usually masculine air of the bunker that caught him off guard. Chocolate? Sam and Dean exchanged a curious glance and wordlessly made their way towards the kitchen. The rich smell got stronger, and Dean had a flashback of his mother having hot chocolate ready for him when he got home from preschool on Fridays. He was very young, barely four, and would often ask for it on other days but she was adamant that it be a special treat. 

The trench coat was back, which made Dean’s reminiscent smile begin to turn down but then a warm mug was being pressed into his hand and the relief flooding over him at the reality that Cas was there at all overrode any disappointment. 

“Hey guys,” Cas greeted easily. Sam huffed his amused little laugh as a mug of hot chocolate was handed to him.

“Thanks Cas.” Dean knew he should say it as well, but all he could seem to do was smile what even he could tell was a goofy smile at the angel in gratitude. The warm gaze he was receiving in return told him that Cas was getting the message, though, and Dean was so glad the whole not letting themselves look at each other thing seemed to be over.

“Dean, you’re exhausted,” Cas told him gently. “Take your cocoa and go to bed.” Dean took a sip off of his mug; not as rich as his mom’s but not bad for an angel that probably didn’t know what it was supposed to taste like. He wished he could wrap Cas in a hug, he wished he could stay up and spend time with him, but he was a mere human and he did need sleep. So he followed his friend’s well meaning orders and shuffled off down the hall, clutching his mug tightly. This being taken care of thing was nice, he thought in a daze, peeling his outer shirt off and swapping his jeans for sweatpants. Dean all but collapsed into bed, making sure he downed most of his cocoa before his head found the sweet spot on his pillow. A soft but deep voice tethered him to the waking world for a bit longer.

“Do you still wish me to not look over you while you sleep?” A shadow of a chuckle escaped Dean’s throat.

“When have you ever listened to me on that?” His eyes were half closed, begging for rest, but he could just make out the shape of the angel standing next to his bed. Dean lifted a heavy arm and attempted to make a grabbing motion at the air. He was fading fast. 

“C’mere,” Dean muttered, hoping Cas would get the hint. “Please,” he added, just conscious enough to be grateful for only being half conscious; he didn’t know if he could ask for this otherwise. He vaguely heard a sliding of fabric, then was rewarded with Cas settling onto the bed next to him, warm and soft and so close. Dean stirred enough to shimmy back to give Cas some room as the angel laid down, everything but the coat on of course. Dean grinned weakly at him and used the last of his strength to try to draw the solid body towards him.

“Go to sleep, Dean,” Cas whispered tenderly, and his lips pressed a blessing of a kiss to the center of the human’s forehead. Dean slept, deeply and securely. 

Dean liked his room, but waking up in the bunker with no windows to let in natural light could be disconcerting. He rolled his head towards his bedside table and blinked at the digital display. 11:47. Was that am or pm? Where had he left his phone? He reached down for a good ball sack scratch, yawning and stretching his neck in the other direction. 

Amused blue eyes met his groggy ones from the chiseled face that lay on the other pillow and Dean quickly ripped his hand out of his sweats. He should be embarrassed but he supposed Cas had seen worse. 

“I like it when you touch yourself,” Cas said with no qualms, and damn if that wasn’t maybe the dirtiest phrase Dean had ever heard upon waking. He already had half of a morning boner but he tried to keep his mind out of the gutter, for now anyway.

“That’s not - really the same…” he started, then gave up. “Did you really lay here all night?” he asked the angel instead.

“All morning,” Cas corrected, and that answered that question. Dean sighed in contentment at this knowledge, recalling a time he would have been severely annoyed by it. Now rested and alert again, he rather enjoyed the funny twist his belly did as he settled into the awareness that he was staring at someone who knew him better than anyone other than Sammy and still loved him. He rolled to his side to mirror Cas and let himself study that beautiful face.

Cas had been staring at him for years, and while Dean had sneaked plenty of secret glimpses in exquisite denial, it was high time he openly returned the honor. There was a certain comfort in the angel’s mere presence, that much Dean had learned to appreciate a while ago. But it took him slowing down and facing Cas, and himself, just like this, just like now, before he could truly soak in the value of what Cas had been trying to give him all along. Maybe only a true angel would have been able to be this patient with a cursed lunkhead like him. 

There weren’t just walls around Dean’s heart, there was an armed fortress. A lot of people had baggage that made it hard for them to let anyone in, sure. By the time Dean was sixteen duty and emotions had become almost indecipherable from each other, and by the time he was twenty, duty was king. Take Sammy for instance: he loved his brother of course, but did that mostly spring him from his ultimate job to keep him safe? He was fine with that particular knot never getting unraveled. 

Dean never had the luxury of choices, not the way other people seemed to. Oh, he’d had the illusion of them, like Lisa and Jo most notably, but all that always ended up in was those that he cared about in danger or dead, because of him. He’d given up, he wouldn’t endanger anybody else. But then Castiel came along, and stayed. Cas, who wouldn’t be shaken off, driven off, scared off, beaten off, even killed off. Cas, who had his back no matter what, who’d followed him literally to the ends of the earth and beyond, well after he knew what kind of a bastard Dean was, and he just kept coming back. He was strong enough to survive whatever got in their way, it seemed. He’d sworn himself to Dean entirely too devoutly and in so doing made himself the only real choice that maybe Dean had ever had, or for that matter, would have. 

And through all of that, he’d never demanded anything, just the privilege of watching over Dean while he slept and being the one to keep the nightmares away. Dean swallowed thickly, not sure he deserved this angel staring back at him, but also knowing Cas wasn’t about to go anywhere. There was too much history between them for words to be particularly necessary, so now Dean just reached. He was enfolded into the arms of an angel as surely as if he’d always belonged there. 

One hand slid inside the stupid suit jacket the guy still had on, and the other dug under Cas’s ribs, and Dean clung on for dear life. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held someone or let himself be held by anybody; it wasn’t exactly his MO. Cas, though, as in all respects, was different, and so Dean buried his face into the angel’s neck, getting drunk on the scent of his skin directly at the source. With Cas, he didn’t have to be proud, or strong, or duty bound. Cas’s hands were firm against his back, and Dean felt his worries drain out of him, at least for now. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” the angel’s deep but dulcet tones crept into Dean’s ear. The hunter melted under this kind of devotion.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” he breathed back into the shirt collar.

“Hush,” Cas soothed. “We’re here now.” He began shifting, and though Dean didn’t really want to move, he was hopelessly willing to let Cas do whatever he wanted. It was amazing the difference a few words, an intimate lesson, one kiss, and some hot chocolate could have. 

Hands that held the power to smite or heal with about the same amount of effort cradled Dean’s face, and the bluer than blue eyes were back to drinking him in. Hesitantly but with purpose, the angel kissed the hunter and Dean welcomed the fire dancing along each of his nerve endings. This time there was a closed door and a comfortable bed instead of a ringing phone and this lent a languor to their movements that they both leaned into.

How had Cas learned to kiss like this, and Dean almost broke away to laugh when he remembered the porn the then-even-more-naive-angel used to watch. With the few brain cells that were still in operation as Cas swirled his tongue around his and _good god did he know what that did to Dean’s blood_ , Dean wondered idly if the guy had done any watching lately. His thoughts veering down that kind of naughty path coupled with the privacy and newfound mutual surrender they were finding, Dean decided it was a good idea to attempt to slow down. It was the last thing that parts of him wanted to do, but he didn’t quite know what parts of him wanted to do anyway, and he would be damned if he did anything to take advantage of his angel. 

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” he told Cas breathlessly once he’d managed to pull back. Cas’s fingers clutched tighter at the back of his neck and his waist where they were anchored in response, and Dean could have sworn he felt him tremble. He definitely identified the press of heavy warmth on his hip, and a thrill of uncertain desire trickled through him at this knowledge. This whole sharply attracted to a male thing was still new to him, and he wasn’t sure how far to let blind lust lead. 

“Teach me more,” Cas requested with unmistakable heat in his voice. “Let me touch you. Give me your - touch me,” he pleaded brokenly. Dean was starting to fear he’d created a monster but when he considered how horny he was, and that Cas’s hormones must be going absolutely haywire with all this being fresh to him, he could hardly blame him. Dean moved a hand to the angel’s wrist, trying to steady both of them. 

“I don’t want to move too fast,” Dean explained. “For either of us. But you especially. I want to make sure you’re okay.” It was maybe the lamest and sweetest thing he’d ever said to someone in bed, but even with his body begging otherwise, he meant every word. Cas leaned in close again and a jolt shot down Dean’s very spine as the next words were said through hot lips against his earlobe. 

“I’m yours Dean. You can do whatever you want to me.” Dean had all he could do to not sink his teeth into the side of Cas’s neck to keep himself from literally growling in desire at this. A throaty whine did escape and his hips moved into Cas’s leg, his hard cock mindlessly seeking contact. Dean only had so much control, and a promise like this was the sweetest candy. 

He knew they could lock the door for good measure and spend the rest of the day in bed; Sam must already know they were both in here, and there would be no hiding things much longer from him. Dean had a stirring that perhaps he should feel embarrassed by that but he couldn’t quite manage it, at least not right now when Sam wasn’t in front of him. 

Cas’s head tipped back, exposing his throat as if in utter surrender. Teach him, he had asked. Dean was well beyond being able to deny him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though this chapter ends on a note that could wrap the story up nicely, if you're enjoying this, fear not. There's at least a few more chapters in the works. This really was a one shot that ran away with me, and I usually don't post WIP's, preferring to have something complete before sending it out into the world. But this thing doesn't know what's doing and hence neither do I!  
> Thank you for reading and coming along for the ride!!!


	5. I Do Like Touching You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lazy day off spent in bed together exploring each other.

The door now locked, Dean returned to the bed where Cas was nearly panting. ‘Delectable’ had never been a word in Dean’s vocabulary before but he guessed it had just gotten added. He took a moment before reaching for Cas again, to give them both a chance to calm down a bit. It was important for him to remember that the whole purpose here, or at least what it had started as, was to school the angel in sex. Dean had his suspicions that Cas officially knew more than he was letting on and just wanted Dean to be the first to do what lovers do with him. Well, if he was going to be the guy’s first, he wanted to be his last, the thought zapped across his mind and while  _ that _ was new, he tucked it into a corner to deal with later, because it wasn’t wrong.

What had started a few days ago as a request cloaked in questionable innocence had spun around and smacked Dean in the face with more emotions than he’d allowed himself to feel in a long time, if not ever. So it wasn’t like this was just sex that they were dealing with, and that was shaky ground for Dean and his heart. He gazed down at Cas, the rumpled vision that he was after making out, his face flushed, and Dean overflowed with what could only be love. 

Kneeling down finally, he ghosted his lips over Cas’s, not letting either of them deepen the kiss. He’d been dying to know what that slight scruff felt like on his lips and he proceeded to find out, pleasantly and oddly surprised that the scratchiness of it was a turn on. Who the hell would have thought that? He wasn’t used to taking his time and lavishing this much attention on his bed partners, but he had a deep desire to press kisses to every inch of Cas’s skin. Dean slipped his hands under the blue suit jacket, over the angel’s compact but solid shoulders, and encouraged him to lean up enough to get the thing off of him. It got tossed to the floor, fresh dry clean be damned. 

“Should I take my tie off?” Cas asked, and these were the moments Dean wondered if he wasn’t being toyed with. But he just smiled at the angel and nodded, admiring the handsome face, the almost black hair, and then he had to run his hand through said hair. It was a lot softer then he could have expected it to be. 

“Can I unbutton your shirt?” Dean asked once the tie was gone. 

“You know what I said, Dean,” Cas replied, and his hips shifted a touch. “Whatever you want. Yes.” Dean bit his bottom lip in impatience and concentration as he started at the top and undid the buttons one by one of the crisp white shirt. 

“You seem happy,” Cas’s voice came, full of a quiet joy, while Dean was unfastening the last one. That pure acknowledgement on its own was a beautiful thing, and Dean’s heart warmed even more, his hands parting the two sides of Cas’s shirt and allowing his eyes to feast upon all the flesh he’d been longing to. Cas didn’t have a hard muscle kind of strength, because he didn’t need it with his celestial powers, but he was certainly fit, and smooth, and just like Dean thought, there was only a sparse scattering of dark hairs dotting his chest. There was just the hint of the top of a treasure trail that disappeared into his pants and though that piqued Dean’s curiosity in an unfamiliar way, he knew that could wait. 

The hunter trailed his gaze up the angel’s torso and back to his gentle eyes, which were watching Dean’s every move. Dean couldn’t feel subconscious about this because Cas had been doing this for years. This level of intimacy between them was a new chapter, but it was certainly not a new book as with most lovers discovering each other for the first time. 

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” Dean said reverently, and was rewarded by Cas’s eyes almost glowing silver with grace under the praise. It was a delicate balance, for Dean, to treat his friend and now almost lover as, well, normal, and not just an angel. But there were times it shone through more than others. For instance, right now neither mentioned the obvious: what Dean was admiring so much was not Cas’s true form, it was a vessel of a man once named Jimmy Novak. But Castiel had been here on earth in this body for long enough that Dean had nearly forgotten it had not always been Cas's. It was a circumstance they overlooked in the interest of Cas being able to stay. 

“So there’s...satisfaction in taking your partner’s clothes off?” Cas clarified, pulling Dean back to center. 

“Oh yeah,” he answered enthusiastically, then made quick work of the buttons on Cas’s shirt sleeves so that he could get the angel topless. Dean was learning he might be able to get drunk on the sight of skin, or at least this skin. Once Cas’s shirt had joined the pile on the floor, Dean traced his fingertips down the full length of his bare arm, from shoulder to wrist, again, a far more tender gesture than he usually performed. He then lifted Cas’s hand and slipped it under the hem of his simple tee shirt. 

“Want to return the favor?” Dean asked, his voice edging towards husky. There was something insanely sexy about the wide eyed way Cas concentrated on everything he was doing, how his lips quivered with a heavier breath, and the pink flush spreading across his neck and upper chest when Dean ogled him. 

Dean contemplated, not for the first time, if this was wrong, to be corrupting an angel of the Lord. His dick admittedly stirred with added interest in his sweatpants at this idea. Dean had never been the religious type and when he was being gifted with an angel that was begging to be debauched, well, couldn’t that be considered the Lord’s work, he thought with a devilish smirk. It surely wasn’t his fault that the angel’s touch could raise goosebumps on his skin as Cas eagerly explored his belly or that he outright trembled when Cas was bold enough to flex his fingers into his back, his short nails just catching skin and nearly driving Dean wild. 

He fell on Cas’s chest with a hungry mouth, his lips adjusting to hard lines and planes instead of the soft curves he was used to. But the way Cas writhed underneath him made the differences hardly seem worth thinking about.

“That’s good?” he checked in, just to make sure. “You need to figure out what you like, remember.” He then flicked his tongue over a hard dark red nipple, knowing he was being a tease. 

“Dean,” Cas ground out desperately. “Yes. All of it. It’s good. Please.” And his bucking hips left little doubt on what he was asking so nicely for. Dean saw the bulging shape out of the corner of his eye as he danced his tongue down the center line of his lover’s stomach. He’d never touched another guy’s cock before, had never even remotely wanted to. But now he undid Cas’s belt, then the button and fly without letting himself think too much about it and slipped his hand inside.

Cas  _ hissed _ through his teeth. Dean’s own cock strained at his underwear as his fingers and palm caressed the hard length, soaked with precum already. He reached up with his other hand and grabbed his tee shirt from where it had landed on the bed; he wasn’t doing another load of laundry today. 

“Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean,” Cas was panting out, his hands in fists on either side of him, his eyes screwed shut, and Dean took that to mean he was doing an okay job jacking another dude for the first time. His hand was not small but Cas’s cock filled it up well, and Dean began to wonder how those balls might fit against his palm, to pull the pants down for more access, when Cas’s cock began pulsing, and Dean was just able to catch the hot sticky mess in his own tee shirt. 

Cas’s hips stilled and Dean gently let go of his softening cock, leaving him arranged in a comfortable position, and blindsided by the wave of intimacy this gesture brought on. The idea of bringing his lips just lightly to the tip of Cas’s shaft burst into his brain, and though Dean wasn’t quite sure he was ready for that, his tongue still wondered what it might taste like. 

At this point his own need would not be ignored any longer, so Dean brought his palm to the erection straining at the seam of the sweatpants. He’d no sooner done so than Cas’s hand roughly brushed his away. 

“Let me practice,” Cas admonished. Then, “I want to touch you.” That deep scratchy voice offering up those blunt words was not going to contribute to Dean’s lasting too long, that was for sure. Cas’s eager hands found the waistband of Dean’s sweats and yanked. Dean partially fell off balance with the force so that he was now hovering over Cas’s chest, holding himself up so that he didn’t crush Cas, not that he’d be able to, but it was good to be polite. 

Dean’s rock hard cock had sprung out of his sweats with the motion and he saw Cas’s bright blue eyes staring at it, quite as fascinated by it as last time.

“Go ahead,” Dean gave permission, and the angel was smoothing his hand over Dean’s dick immediately. Dean shuddered, reduced to a ball of lust and nerves; if he’d thought Cas’s touch on his face or his stomach was intense...he almost felt bad that he was going to come like a teenager and not be able to give Cas a lot of practice on this round. He wondered if he’d be able to explain that was sort of a compliment, but there was no way words were happening right now. 

Oh man...Cas had to have been practicing on his own, the way he squeezed just right towards the end on the downstroke and incorporated a little twist every so often. He tried not to thrust into Cas’s hand but his hips wouldn’t follow his direction. It was rushing, building…

“Oh - god - I - fuck -” was all he was able to get out as his cock released, his come painting Cas’s beautiful smooth belly and chest in lewd splashes. Dean’s orgasm wrecked him, his ab muscles twitching; mere hand jobs generally didn’t do this to him. 

Then he looked down, his eyes dark with sated desire. So much for not making a mess. This might be the dirtiest thing he’d ever seen; an angel, his angel, covered in his hot seed.

“Uh, sorry,” he exhaled. Cas gently shook his head against the pillow where it lay and gave a small grin.

“Don’t be,” he said. “It feels good.” And to this Dean could only groan in ecstasy and lean down to take Cas’s mouth in a plundering kiss, all thought of being a gentle teacher gone for the moment. He took and took of that willing mouth, and Cas gave, but then Cas was taking, and Dean found himself so utterly content with the back and forth rhythm they’d created that he decided they actually weren’t getting out of bed anytime soon. How often did he really take a day off? 

At some point, Dean’s growling stomach forced him to momentarily stop touching his angel and venture out of the room, slipping his cozy robe on and promising Cas he’d return as soon as possible. A man could not live on kisses and sexual frustration alone. Once in the kitchen, Dean pulled out everything to make an epic sandwich, rather wishing there was a point in making one for Cas, but the angel had of course said he didn’t need anything. He was still going to take the package of cookies with him at least and an extra beer. Dean heard Sam’s footsteps before his brother stepped into the kitchen doorway.

“Hey,” Sam greeted. 

“Hey,” Dean gave a short nod, spreading mayo on a slice of bread. Like normal. There were days the guys kept to themselves, mostly in their rooms, so Dean tried to think of this as just another day like that. It was his imagination that Sam’s look was even more contemplative than usual, and Dean made sure he kept his hands busy building the masterpiece of a sandwich so he could pretend he wasn’t noticing. 

This certainly wasn’t the first time he’d interacted with his brother while needing a shower and with a sexual conquest so fresh under his belt. But that was anything but another conquest currently laying in his bed, waiting faithfully for him to return. 

“You okay?” Sammy asked, his tone clearly striving for casual. Dean started putting things away in the fridge.

“Is there some quota for asking me that that I don’t know about?” he shot, not actually annoyed, but really, there had to be a limit. 

“No,” came the reply, on an amused breath. “Just want to make sure.” Dean tucked a couple beers into the robe pockets, grabbed the package of cookies, and lifted the plate with his sandwich on it.

“Sammy, I’m great,” Dean told him levelly. He looked his brother full in the face finally. 

“Never been better, in fact,” he added, and for once, his pure honesty shone through. Sam’s mouth formed a small smile that couldn’t quite be called knowing, but also couldn’t not be, and he gave a nod, seemingly satisfied for the time being. Surely he had noticed Cas not around in the rest of the bunker all day, and Dean’s closed door, and he was far from stupid. But the beauty, though sometimes it was the curse, of their close sibling relationship, was that things often didn’t need to be spelled out. Dean gave his brother a lopsided smile as he passed him on the way out of the kitchen. 

Cas had decided to look up some porn on TV in Dean’s absence, satisfying Dean’s earlier curiosity on that subject. Dean just watched him watch it while he shoveled food in his mouth, unsure how he’d never picked up on how enticing those blue eyes deepening at the sight of the actions on screen were. 

When he was done eating, Dean flicked the TV off, and went to stand directly in front of Castiel. It had been too long since he’d kissed his angel. Leaning down, he captured Cas’s mouth, licking and sucking at his lips. Screw those cookies, there could never be a sweeter desert than this. 

“So what’s the next lesson?” Cas asked after Dean had thoroughly kissed him once more. He was so eager, so wanting, so... _ ugnh _ . Dean thought of how Cas would most likely do anything he could ask, and while there was a thrill in that, there was also a responsibility, however foreign to Dean. He’d never cared to take things slow with anyone before. 

“Hey, we don’t need to do everything at once,” he told the angel. “No rush.” 

“I understand,” Cas returned, his voice warm and gaze inviting. “But I do like touching you.” He reached up to draw Dean back into bed with a hand sneaking under the robe.

“Off,” Cas requested, but Dean made him remove the garment himself, thoroughly loving the gleam of appreciation in the angel’s eyes as his body was uncovered again. The guy looked like it was Christmas morning, unwrapping his favorite present. Dean sat down with his back to Cas, and warm arms enfolded him, the weight of the body behind him solid and real as Cas moved closer. 

Dean lost himself in the sensations, the lips tracing along the skin of his back, the cautious tongue tip lapping at the nape of his neck. When he felt hesitant teeth graze the muscle between his neck and shoulder, Dean told Cas he could try biting him gently. He gladly did, and Dean lost his breath and his cock swelled against his leg once more. 

“You taste good,” the angel shared, his voice low. Cas really was enjoying his newfound pleasures of the flesh. Fingers ghosted over his left shoulder and upper bicep, and a tingle that somehow managed to be comforting and titillating at once spread down Dean’s arm. 

“This is where I very first touched you,” Cas breathed into his ear, and Dean’s heart thudded. How could he forget? How had he forgotten? The handprint-sized and-shaped mark that had been the physical proof he’d been literally lifted from Hell had faded over the years to almost nothing. He could still see the faint outline in good light, but it seemed as if it was perfectly clear to Cas as he traced the reminder of his own fingers, then laid soft kisses over them. 

“These are erogenous zones, correct?” Cas asked as he ran his thumbs over Dean’s nipples, and where had he picked up that phrase? And Dean’s nipples actually hadn’t been, well, those, until Cas’s fingers. 

“Pinch them,” Dean suggested, barely even knowing what he was requesting, his body no longer as easily mapped as he thought it had been. A searing pleasure pain shot through his core directly to his dick as he let out a gasp. 

“I think that’s a yes,” Cas concluded. How was everything the angel said so fucking dirty now? One strong hand smoothed down the toned muscles of Dean’s stomach to slip into the waistband of the sweats. Cas fondled his cock almost idly, also exploring the crease between Dean’s pelvis and leg while he was there, seeming to instinctively understand that Dean didn’t want to get off again just yet. Dean let him play, his body luxuriating in the attention and the sensations. 

Eventually both of their pants came off, and they were two naked people in love, deepening and strengthening their bond in a physical way that truthfully neither one of them had fully experienced before. The room began to fill with the thick scent of sex as the lovers intimately memorized every inch of each other. It was soft caresses, testing licks, and needy kisses, and like the ebbs and flows of the ocean, their bodies and hormones crested and peaked in waves. 

Castiel came three more times, and Dean twice more that day while the numbers on the digital clock went ignored. 


	6. Start Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After that first date, Cas is the naughtiest angel that Dean ever wants to meet. And he's got Dean doing something he never thought he would. Luckily Cas ends up tasting pretty good.

Dean’s wildest hopes were surpassed; Cas was head over heels in love with the zoo. It was a good thing he’d made sure they got there early since the angel wanted to stand and stare at each exhibit until Dean nudged him on. Just like a child, the hunter thought with affection. He used to pick on, and, okay, outright ridicule Cas’s viridity, his lack of worldliness, and Dean wished he could go back and kick his past self. What he used to be annoyed by now charmed him, the way Cas’s face shone when he saw meerkats for the first time in real life, or the wallabies that loped right up to him in the Australian walkabout section. Dean paid the extra few dollars to feed the lorikeets, and seeing Cas standing there covered in brightly colored birds while people around him looked on in awe would have been worth ten times that. 

If it was ever just them, he thought, and they had a place, he’d never be able to deny Cas getting some sort of pet, Dean realized. They’d probably end up with a gimpy one eyed dog or something equally as pathetic. Or Cas would get his hands on something illegal and ridiculous, and Dean wouldn’t have the heart to tell him no. Where in the world were these thoughts even coming from, Dean pondered as Cas sat on the ground at the lemur enclosure, perfectly content. 

Planning for the future wasn’t a Winchester’s strong suit. Sam tried desperately to hold onto an idea of something, some apple pie life out there, and Dean just scoffed at him usually. Living was for the moment, not an abstract point in the future that you might never see. So it was Dean’s philosophy to eat, drink, and make whoopie like there was no tomorrow. 

But now here was Cas, standing up and taking his place by Dean’s side again and, casual as anything, leaning over to smooch his rough cheek and catch his hand in his. Their fingers slotted together naturally, muscle memory established already, and Dean couldn’t help answering the grip with a squeeze of his own. Maybe...just maybe, tomorrow was suddenly worth considering.

Cas dragged him to the next exhibit still holding hands and Dean glanced around, at the families and the couples surrounding them, feeling a bit subconscious, not sure if he could feel their eyes judging them. He’d never been big on PDA’s, of course he’d rarely had someone to do them with, but it’s not like he could let Cas down anyway. 

Of course the angel, altruistic as ever, had to ensure the animals he saw in these cages were being as well taken care of as possible, so he grilled every other zookeeper he came across like they were a murder suspect. Dean tried, at first, to halt his enthusiasm, but quickly gave up; this was one more thing he loved about the guy, after all. Watching Castiel alternate between fierce advocate and enthralled child, Dean felt lucky just to be in his presence, to be the human that this incredible angel had chosen. 

“So what was your favorite animal?” Dean asked on the way back to the car, once they had seen everything and the zoo had closed its gates behind them. Cas thought for a moment, deeply considering. 

“The tigers,” he said seriously. “They remind me of you.” Dean tried not to let his chest puff out a little at this. When your lover compared you to a tiger, it was hard to remain humble. 

“Beautiful and strong but aloof and vicious,” Cas expounded, and Dean looked at him sideways. Um. Whatever. He didn’t like cats anyway. 

“Or maybe it was those little nervous gold monkeys,” Cas rethought. “They were very much like Sam.” Dean released a laugh that scared the seagulls circling the cars they were walking by on the trek back to the Impala. He’d insisted on driving here, on treating this as close to a normal, well, date, as he was able to. Besides, he knew Cas liked being able to ride shotgun for a change. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said in the sincerest tone ever once they loaded themselves into the car, Dean’s feet aching. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked that many miles in a day, but it had been worth it. 

“That was truly magical,” Cas gushed as Dean started the engine, and he had to look over at his angel’s face. An angel of the Lord, with powers beyond anything most of humanity was capable of understanding, thought a zoo was magical. And this is why Dean loved him. With no warning, he lunged over the console to lay a quick kiss on Cas’s lips, leaving the guy gazing after him adorably as he planted his ass fully back in the driver’s seat.

Dean flicked the radio on and his ears were met with the sweet sound of some good old Stones, Start Me Up to be precise, and his head immediately started moving to the jangly beat. The Impala rolled along, her driver’s shoulders now into the groove as well, and with a glance at Cas on a right turn, Dean saw the angel was also bobbing his head. They caught each other’s eye and the widest of grins exploded on their faces before they shared a raucous laugh. Dean didn’t know if he could get used to being this happy, but he was thankful for every moment of it that he was blessed with.

Cas, perhaps taking the song literally, or maybe just getting a hair up his butt, slid over as far as the console would allow, leaned over it, and began running his lips up and down the side of Dean’s throat. Dean instinctively tilted his head to the other side to allow him access while keeping his eyes on the road. He was a damn good driver and if Cas wanted to mess around, he could still keep focus without too much of a problem. Nice 45 mile-an-hour cruising speed on the way back home, and oh that was Cas’s hand on his inner thigh. 

“Dude, what you doing?” Dean asked, his breath hitching, but only slightly. He steadfastly ignored the open stare they were receiving from the minivan mom at the red light; Cas of course had no awareness of anything but Dean at that moment. 

“You’re very hot,” Cas whispered seriously in his ear, and Dean punched the gas a little harder than he meant to. That hand on his thigh was creeping closer and closer…

By the time they got back to the bunker Dean wanted to pounce on his lover right there in the car, Cas had gotten him so worked up. But knowing his bed was not too far away, he made himself get out and head inside. He returned Cas’s smirk with a devilish grin of his own and before they stumbled through the bunker door, took him in a deep kiss for a few moments. 

“You are the naughtiest angel I ever want to meet,” Dean mumbled against Cas’s lips, causing his lover’s smirk to deepen. Then he led Cas down the steel steps and through the map room, eager to gain his own room. And there was Sam, sitting comfortably in the armchair in the corner of the library, some sort of paperback in his hands. 

“How was the…” Sam started to say, but Dean just tightened his grip on Cas’s hand and dragged the angel along, too horned up from all the teasing and completely out of fucks to give. 

“...zoo?” Neither heard Sam finish as he shook his head with a wide eyed laugh. 

“Let me pleasure you, Dean,” as he kissed a slow trail down Dean’s ribs, his side, his hips, and then Cas was tugging down his underwear, breath heating up his already hot skin just underneath his belly button. 

“I...I don’t know how to teach you that,” Dean told him, realizing in a rush what exact brand of pleasure Cas was talking about. 

“I think - I think maybe I can figure this one out on my own,” Cas said with determination, and laid the tenderest of kisses to the tip of Dean’s rapidly growing erection. This rather hurried the process along, to the point that Dean wasn’t sure there was enough blood left in the rest of his body. 

“Just tell me how I’m doing, okay?” Cas requested, and those gorgeous eyes locked on Dean’s from where they were hovering above his groin, and thank goodness breathing was an automatic thing, because Dean would have forgotten how to. 

“Uh-huh,” was all Dean could get out, his own eyes wide at what was happening. Could he really let Cas go through with this? But then his dick was in the angel’s friggin mouth, those lips learning the feel of the swollen head, and Dean was pretty sure yeah, he could totally roll with this.

Cas was clumsy, no doubt; his teeth scraped the sensitive flesh sometimes, and he didn’t think to use his hand right away for support and steering, making him look rather like he was bobbing for apples at first, but Dean could not have possibly cared less. This pure act of giving, of his partner wanting to make him feel good, was so beautiful in and of itself that anything Cas did would have been heavenly. 

Dean caught the unsure glances sent up his way every so often, though, so he did his best to offer some direction. It was mostly along the lines of, “Oh, god, that. Right. There. Fuck,” and, “Yeah. Suck it, just like...Ohh.” But he was able to give some constructive criticism every once in a while, such as, “You can grab it too, don’t be afraid to...oh god,” and “Wetter, please, make it wet...fuck.” Dean was having all he could do not to move his hips, not to overwhelm Cas, not to take hold of his own cock and help jerk himself, knowing his lover wanted to learn.

Dean had received some amazing blowjobs in his admittedly promiscuous life. He looked back in fondness at one particular night with a redhead in Mississippi, and while that had been fun in the hottest and dirtiest of ways, this was so much...more. There was something about the way Cas was settled between his legs, lavishing attention on his cock, seemingly content to imprint every inch on his tongue that made Dean feel almost sacred. 

His hand carded through Cas’s soft hair, a smile playing on his lips as he watched his dick fill up the angel’s mouth, felt him take it in until he was almost choking, then draw back. Who knew Cas would be this into sucking cock, and Dean appreciated a ripple of hedonism for his part in Cas’s corruption. 

All good things must come to an end, though, and Dean’s climax began threatening.

“Cas,” he told him, “I’m...I’m coming, man. I’m gonna come.” He partially tried to move away but Cas’s hand just moved faster, his warm mouth still engulfing the head of his cock. Well, he’d given him fair warning, there wasn’t much else he could do, and Dean shot his load down an angel’s throat. His vision a little blurry, he attempted to watch his lover’s reaction, and not surprisingly, Cas sputtered somewhat. But holy damn if he didn’t swallow most of it, giving Dean dirty fantasy material for the rest of his life. 

Dean could only lay there for a few moments, having reached for Cas’s hand and gripping it tight, thoroughly blissed out in both mind and body. Cas’s hand slipped out of his as he stood up, looking utterly pleased with himself and licking his lips. Dean stared at him for a moment, and unconsciously licked his own lips in response. He gathered his wits and took the plunge. 

“Pants off,” he demanded. Before Cas was able to get them all the way down, Dean was kneeling in front of him. This was well beyond his normal personal level of okayness, naturally, but with his recent orgasm still flowing through him, his brain was still in enough a sex haze to allow him this lapse. That, and good god Cas had earned it. Dean could recognize that cloud of lust in his eyes by now, and that, combined with the pride pouring out of Cas, made for the combination of wanting to please his lover by returning the favor and to see just what kind of pile of stuttering goo he could reduce him to. 

“Underwear too,” he had to tell him, and helped the angel pull his boxers down with his pants to pool between his feet. Cas’s cock sprung free, huge and hard as ever, and nearly slapped Dean on the side of the face. Dean’s heart had time to thud twice; was he really about to do this? And the answer - this was his Cas, and the _only_ person he would ever do this for, ever be on his knees for, came back at him as he wrapped his fingers around the base of that impressive shaft. 

With a glance up at his lover’s expression, and of course Cas was staring down at him wide eyed, excitement and love shining in those blue orbs so that was the only thing Dean saw before his tongue came into contact with cock for the first time. Not one to back down from a challenge, even one he’d only made for himself, he licked a healthy path up the underside first, and didn’t let himself shy away from the already leaking head and slit. It really didn’t taste that bad, he reflected, especially as Cas let out a little whimper of pleasure above him. If he thought that felt good…

Dean began licking the rest of the shaft in earnest, not fully knowing what he was doing any more than Cas had, but having a clear picture of what he knew felt good and the until-now unexpected desire to replicate it. He did appreciate how warm Cas’s cock was on his tongue, and the heavy, almost sweet smell of it filling his nostrils. He’d always figured chicks did this for brownie points, so maybe you’d go down on them later, or just fuck them better, but now he saw there was an enjoyment to be had in having your face full of cock, though he would have died before ever admitting that to anyone. Or again, maybe that was just cause this was his angel. 

“Damn, you’re huge,” Dean mumbled in between licks. He knew there was no way he was going to get this whole thing in his mouth, but he’d do the best he could. 

“Is that good?” Cas asked huskily, and Dean had to breathe a laugh onto the end of the shaft that he’d been just about to wrap his lips around. Only Cas would ask that. 

“It’s fucking hot, that’s for sure,” Dean told him, and reached a hand up to Cas’s abdomen to steady himself, petting the light trail of hair there, while with the other he continued to hold the cock in position. Taking a deep breath, he slipped the head past his lips even as Cas took his fingers that were resting on his belly and squeezed. This was oddly erotic and intimate all at once, something Dean couldn’t have prepared himself for, and he closed his eyes with the emotion of it all while he tried to take more than an inch or two of dick into his mouth. 

He had to pull off, a string of precome still connected to his lower lip, to work up some more saliva. For all the suggestions he’d given Cas, he seemed to be forgetting them in the moment. Hey, it was his first blowjob, cut him some slack. Mouth as wet as he could make it now, Dean dove back onto Cas’s cock, determined to get at least half of it into his face. 

“Oh god, Dean,” Cas muttered above him, squeezing his fingers tighter, and Dean really wanted to smirk but of course he couldn’t. He could only keep working the cock that was filling his mouth up, already threatening to choke him. He found he could barely really get any suction if he wanted to get as much in as he could, and a new respect for all the girls that had sucked him off began to make itself known. This was not easy. 

How had Cas even done it as well as he had, Dean thought, battering his own soft palate, his lips and tongue already sore. Cas could do a lot of things that humans couldn’t, he reminded himself, he was able to take pain and discomfort that a mortal couldn’t cope with. These thoughts lent a new fervor to Dean’s actions, not willing to be upstaged by an angel in the matter of blowjobs. He began working his hand up and down the other half of Cas’s cock that there was absolutely no way he was going to fit into his mouth, and the angel’s leg muscles began to tremble. Hell, he was closer than Dean had been counting on.

Dean was torn between wanting to be a hero and trying to take a throatful of come for the first time, or backing off swiftly and trying to aim it somewhere else. As it was, when a long shuddering moan sounded from Cas and Dean could feel the thick cock on his tongue begin to pulse, he began to pull back but wasn’t quite in time. A hot burst of come splashed over his tongue as he slipped off of the head, his hand still instinctively jerking to keep Cas going. The next jet hit him on his still open lips, and the third and last was a blast from his nose to his chin.

Cas sat down heavily on the bed, his legs not able to hold him any longer, angel or not, and even through the faceful of semen, Dean had to give a proud smirk at his accomplishment. It actually didn’t taste as bad as he’d thought it might; he’d heard it was bitter, and okay, there was that one time he’d shot a load so hard a spot landed on his lips and out of morbid curiosity he’d licked it off. That had reminded him of cheap warm beer that had sat out open for a couple of days.

But Cas somehow tasted, if not exactly sweet as honey, pretty close, and Dean proceeded to greedily swallow what had ended up in his mouth, then licked his lips for the rest sticking there. A drop fell to the floor from his chin, and he wiped the remainder off his face with a hand that he then wiped on his sheets.

He then crawled up onto the bed and, feeling the need to be as close to Cas as possible, laid himself gently on top of the angel’s body, his naked chest wishing that Cas was shirtless too, and their now flaccid cocks pressed against each other in a sticky but not unpleasant way. Dean's head came to rest on Cas’s shoulder for a change and he was immediately wrapped in warm, steely arms. 

“I don’t think there’s strong enough human words for how you make me feel Dean, and I’m not sure there’s any words worthy in Enochian either.” Cas’s deep, sleepy voice rumbled through his chest, soothing Dean while this statement soaked into his being. 

“I love you, too, Cas,” Dean breathed after a moment, his heart beating irregularly at the gentle but stark confession even as he drifted off to a doze, using his angel as a pillow. 


	7. This One's Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Cas goes missing, it's rescue mission on. Dean will be damned if anything tries to take his angel away now, no matter where he might be.

Dean was surprised by how much he didn’t mind and maybe outright enjoyed cuddling up with Cas at night, and it was impossible not to notice that he was sleeping so much better for it. The angel’s arms had become somewhat of a sanctuary for Dean, and the hunter knew he was getting spoiled. This became crystal clear the day he woke up and Cas wasn’t there in his bed, where he...yeah, where he belonged. 

He didn’t let himself worry too much until he’d gone and made coffee and surreptitiously checked over the bunker. Sam’s room, bathroom, dungeon, even the storeroom, Cas was nowhere to be found. Of course, the guy had his own life, and it’s not like he had to tell Dean every little thing he did. But he hadn’t left Dean’s side in two weeks now and the suddenness of this just didn’t feel right. What if something was wrong? 

Dean swigged his coffee, not even appreciating the taste. He wandered into the library where Sam was at the table, leaning over his laptop. 

“You haven’t seen Cas, have you?” The words came out tighter than Dean meant them to. His brother barely glanced up as he shook his head. 

“I thought he was with you.” If there was a double meaning there, Dean ignored it. 

“He’s gone,” he said blankly, beyond caring if he was starting to panic. 

“Can you track his cell phone?” Dean asked next, with a nod to the computer that Sam was staring at. A quizzical brow was crooked his way.

“He hasn’t been gone that long, has he?” Sam queried. “He’s probably fine, just has some angel stuff to do or something.” This was reasonable; Cas always had taken off at times and he always came back to check in. Dean didn’t care. 

“Just track it,” he commanded in reply, and sat down next to Sam, not about to leave him alone until he did it. The pacing probably wasn’t helping his nerves anyway. Sam, with a curiously worried glance at his older brother, opened up a new tab and began working, but was not able to do so without commenting. 

“You really love him, don’t you?” he had the gall to say out loud. Dean gritted his teeth and continued to focus on the polished wood grain of the table. He wasn’t about to answer something so foolish. Winchesters didn’t talk about feelings. 

“Dude, don’t think I’m judging you or anything. I think it’s awesome.” Sam’s tone made it obvious he was being sincere. Dean’s expression remained pinched but his gaze softened slightly. He still wasn’t going to address such a mushy topic. 

“You guys are perfect for each other,” Sam insisted on continuing. 

“Just find him,” Dean forced out, his current state of stress making any conscious agreement of Sam’s words superfluous. As he watched, Sam’s brow wrinkled at whatever he was seeing on the laptop, then it furrowed, and then the furrow deepened. Dean was about to snap a, “What?” at him when Sam finally spun the laptop around so the screen was facing him. 

“He’s in France.”

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked as Dean frantically navigated the airline’s website. “We don’t know why he’s there, he could be fine. He could be gone by the time we get halfway there.” Again, reasonable. 

“Then why isn’t he answering his phone?” Dean’s voice was leaden, and then he growled at the laptop as he hit a wrong key and a page he hadn’t wanted popped up. Sam stared at his brother for half a moment, then relented. 

“Give me that.” He took the computer from Dean and began coolly booking two flights with a laser focus.

Good fuck, Dean hated flying. He hated flying even more when it was going to be sixteen hours before he could even try to see where exactly his angel had gotten to, and when he knew there was a chance that Sam was right, that Cas might be there of his own accord and perfectly safe. But his gut was telling him otherwise, and the fact that Sam was buckling his seat belt in right next to him lent credence to this. Sam was a faithful brother, but he wouldn’t be down for this sudden trip, especially without a little more resistance, if his own hunter’s instincts hadn’t flared at least somewhat. 

Dean shoved his ear buds in, turned on the Metallica, and tried not to feel the rattle of the entire friggin plane when the fuselage was drawn up.

“All of them, please,” he told the flight attendant with an attempt at a smile. 

“Sir,” she replied, her own customer service smile pasted on, “That’s not quite -” 

“As many as you can, then. Please,” Dean interrupted, through a grimace now. If he didn’t get some booze in him immediately, he was going to lose it. And they’d only just started the second, much longer, leg of their flight.

“It’s all right,” he heard Sam reassure the attendant. “He’s with me.” She nodded gently and poured some cola and off brand whiskey into a small plastic cup, handing it to Dean with a slightly more genuine grin. He drank half of it in one gulp, and the nice lady promised she’d come back around to him soon. 

As Dean settled his head back against the top of the seat, he closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. He opened them when he heard an annoyingly friendly warm male voice. 

“Where are you guys travelling to?” The young man sitting in the row ahead of them had twisted around and wanted to know. 

Clearing his throat, Sam, ever the schmoozer, answered, “Um, Paris.” 

“Oh, how romantic!” the pretty woman that was in the seat next to the man exclaimed, her bright eyes bouncing appreciatively between the brothers. Dean didn’t even have the energy to spare to get offended at the implication, just closed his own eyes again and decided he would block out the world for the next several hours. 

They were woefully unarmed for whatever they might be walking into. Another reason that Dean didn’t like travelling by anything but his car and personal arsenal. They’d tracked Cas’s cell phone signal to this area of the Parisian city that Sam called Montmartre, and a church, of all things, a Saint Pierre something or other. Only jaded hunters would feel like they needed more than a couple of blades hastily bought from a shop about a half mile back to walk into a seemingly picturesque house of worship with. 

“Wow,” Sam breathed as they approached the ancient building in the gathering dusk. The cobblestone streets were still thronged with tourists, taking picture after picture of the old stone walls and columns. 

“They say Dante used to come here, to sit and think,” Sam said, a touch of reverence in his voice. Damn nerd. 

“I don’t care about Dante,” Dean returned coldly. He didn’t care about dead authors or history or the beauty and vibrance of the city around him. He cared about finding his angel, and now that he was this close, he was out of patience. The brothers wandered into the church along with several other visitors, Sam trying to smile at people and make up for Dean’s tendency to push ahead of them. 

Organ music engulfed them as they walked into the church proper. The interior was stunning, all marble arches and echoes, candles and stained glass. It was a surprisingly light filled chasm that could inspire piousness of the most wayward soul. Dean knew they weren’t about to find what they were looking for in the common area. With a nod to Sam and the practice of so many hunts together, Dean slipped down a corridor when the dulcet’s back was turned, and Sam did likewise down another hall. 

Dean wondered how far down this place could go, and had the thought that weren’t the catacombs under the streets in this city, as he snuck silently through now dim passages, hand on the hilt of his new knife. Whatever had brought Cas to the bowels of this church could not be benevolent. He came upon a small arched door made of some dark wood that looked like it would crumble on impact. A wail floated towards him from the other side, reminiscent of the organ whose soulful tones had died away the deeper Dean had descended. The door didn’t crumble against his shoulder, but it did only take two hits before he was through.

He stood in a small chamber, the air around him freezing. The first thing his eye landed on was a dark haired and trench coated angel in the center of the room, seemingly frozen in place, arms clamped tightly to his sides, though there were no obvious bonds Dean could see. It seemed Cas could only move his eyes and his head in limited motion. At least there was no blood, but all the same, rage tore through Dean. 

Then he was deafened by a screech as he began to take stock of his adversary, no, two adversaries. The one who had just made the ungodly sound had come to stand in front of Dean, and she was an imposing if relatively attractive female figure. Most of her black hair was tied up but plenty of it cascaded down onto her shoulders, one of which was bare with the simple brown frock she wore, the waist cinched with a rope. At a glance she didn’t look dangerous but there was an otherworldliness radiating off of her that Dean knew rather well. Goddess of some brand. 

“You have no business here,” she intoned, and this was when Dean noticed she had the slitted pupils of a snake. He held himself in check, knowing he was outnumbered; there was still that other figure over there, a rancid looking short man that Dean would have bet his baby on was a ghost, and he was just standing there staring at Cas. Dean's hand twitched, wanting to attack, but he needed more information about what the hell this all was. 

“I think I do have business here in fact,” he returned, and tried a slow sidestep that would take him closer to the center of the room. Something told him this chick, while she might be powerful, wasn’t a fighter. So if he could just figure out why Cas was stuck...the goddess moved with him, continuing to block his way. 

Another wail threaded through the room, and now Dean could see it came from the ghost, who wouldn’t take his eyes off Cas. There was something not only unsettling but important about that, Dean sensed.

“Oh shut up!” the goddess snapped. “I don’t care if you don’t like it, just keep going. We’re almost done and then you can go back to your wandering around here. Just make sure you do it right.” Dean took in every word, trying to make sense of them. 

“So you’re not even the one with the power,” Dean tested. He might be the only person that would mock a probably centuries old goddess, but damn it, he did it well. 

“I have plenty of power!” she hissed at him, but then paused, almost thoughtfully. “Just, not quite enough.” Dean did his best to put an openly curious and caring expression on his face and not look threatening, hoping with all of his thudding heart that Cas was okay for now. He didn’t look in bad shape at all, other than not being able to move. 

“Now, my sister, she’s the one that can heal anything or anybody. It’s always Sequana this and Sequana that, she gets all the glory and riches. While little Sirona has always had to be in her shadow. Well, not anymore,” she gloated, her creepy eyes gleaming. “Once my old pal Dante over there is done with his spell, I’ll have an angel and all the healing power that goes with him. Then let’s see who can help more people!” 

If Dean had wanted to blindly attack either of them, this speech left him almost as frozen as Cas. The ghost was Dante? And this Sirona wanted to keep Cas as a pet angel so she could heal people? Not the usual nefarious motive Dean was used to being up against. Not like it mattered; it was still his Cas’s freedom that was at stake. Dean didn’t know how much longer he had before whatever that creepy little dude was mumbling would be complete. 

His sharp ear heard the slightest footfall behind him, not quite in the doorway, and recognized it. Dean swiftly took a step almost into the goddess, his eyes boring into hers, and pivoted on his heel. As expected, she turned with him so that she kept him in her sights, her back now to Sam. 

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” Sirona said, her eyes glowing in defiant triumph. Dante, now behind Dean, had fallen silent and there was a thrum of magic vibrating in the small room.

“I’ll do so much good with him. I just needed a real live angel. And I finally have one.” 

“Yeah well this one’s _mine_ ,” Dean snarled. “You’ll have to find another one. Or not.” And with this, he lunged at her, shoving her with all his strength towards Sam, who caught her as she let out another sharp shriek. She was held fast by the tall hunter’s strong arms, his hand covering her face against her muffled screams, proving Dean’s theory that she was not capable of fighting. With a glance and a nod between the brothers, Sam dragged her out of the chamber and down the hall. 

Dean turned again, his hand back on the hilt of the knife, ready to take out Dante’s spirit even though Sam was going to be pissed at him. But the ghost had dropped to his knees as if in supplication, and Cas was able to move once more. Dean ached to hold him but they weren’t done yet. 

“Forgive me! Oh forgive me, Great One,” Dante was mumbling, his dusty head bowed and his hands clasped. “She forced it upon me, she made me summon you, but I still should not have done so.” Cas had recovered quickly and stopped Dean from attacking the ghost with a sharp look of remonstrance at his lover. 

“It’s okay,” Cas was telling the ghost. Dean’s eyes were wide with incredulity; what was okay about this? But Cas shook his head twice at him, and he had trusted Dean too many times to not deserve the same in return. 

“She knew my life and since then, my death, has been devoted to the study of angels and that I possess the knowledge of the old magics. She promised she would only perform good deeds with your power and I - I am afraid that I let the romance of it go to my head.” If it was possible for a ghost to weep, Dean almost thought Dante would have been. Dude was certainly remorseful, but if he knew that kind of old magic, couldn’t he be considered dangerous?

He watched the scene, relinquishing the outcome to Cas with an effort. After coming all this way, he’d feel bereft if he couldn’t kill _something_. But Cas merely stood there until Dante’s spirit dared to peer up at him, probably wondering why he wasn’t being obliterated. Even as he lifted his head minutely, Castiel began to glow, his eyes going sterling, and then his wings unfurled, dark shadows with a very real gleam to them, taking up most of the room. The resting at the bunker had obviously been doing its job, because his unearthly power was overwhelming in the small space, and Dante began to tremble. Dean, off to the side, wasn’t doing much better. He’d seen Cas angel out before, and it was unquestionably always awe inspiring, but right now it was making his knees weak. He almost wanted to kneel himself. 

“Return to your haunting here,” Castiel’s voice rang out, bouncing against the stone walls. And Dean knew he must be holding back a little so that Dean wasn’t deafened. 

“Do not allow yourself to be tempted again, and all is forgiven.” He reached out with a hand and barely brushed it to the ghost’s head, and Dante disappeared, presumably to go sit and think somewhere else in the church for the rest of time. As soon as he was gone, Cas’s glow began diminishing and he turned to Dean, his eyes still bright but suddenly soft, no longer the angel of verdicts from on high. Just like that. 

It was Dean that was frozen in place now, overwhelmed by the raw otherness emanating from the guy - no - the angel in front of him. He wasn’t sure whether to be turned on or scared to death. 

And then he was wrapped in that angel’s arms, being held tighter than anything, and he was clutching at Cas in turn, not able to get close enough after coming so close to losing him. It wasn’t like Dean to sob, but he was horribly close to it as he took in Cas’s strength and realness and love. 

“You came for me,” Cas mumbled into Dean’s hair. “You came for me.” Like there’d been anything else Dean could have done.

“Of course I did. You’re my angel,” Dean replied with the little breath that was left to him. They were both squeezing so tightly, so wrapped up in each other, that neither noticed Sam returning to the doorway and watching them with a warm, easy smile on his face.


	8. The City Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How often would they get the chance to be in the city of love, after all? In which Cas is a hopelessly romantic sap, and Dean ends up not far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who may live in Paris or have visited, my apologies if I have done less than well at capturing the idea of it. The Lulu White is a real bar, though, and now I kind of want one of their signature drinks that I decided might be able to make Dean Winchester just tipsy enough.

“An ancient French goddess who wanted to be as good of a healer as her sister, so she figured she’d harness the healing powers of an angel. And her way of doing this was to coerce Dante’s ghost into performing the magic,” Sam summed up with his head tilted, wearing a look of incredulity.

“That’s a new one.” 

He, Dean, and Cas were back in the public area of St. Pierre, walking through the massive gothic arches, admiring the history and architecture. Well, Sam and Cas were admiring; Dean just wanted to get out of there before Sirona could escape from the room they’d locked her in down in the bowels of the church. Though it would probably take a while with the sigils drawn on the door in an angel’s blood. At least they’d gotten to use one of the knives they’d bought for something, since Dean had to reluctantly agree that she perhaps didn’t deserve to die. 

“It makes sense,” Cas remarked, and Dean crooked an eyebrow at him. He and the angel were walking side by side, close enough for their hands to brush every other step or so. Dean was not letting him out of arm’s reach anytime soon and there was a relief in not having to conceal their true relationship from Sam any longer. Little bro was taking the whole thing in stride, and Dean made a note to try to be more relaxed about the next damsel in distress Sam took a shine to. 

“Dante has studied us angels more deeply than any other human, so I wasn’t surprised he knew enough to perform the ancient magic,” Cas explained. “I remember Hestia sharing much with him back in the day.” Back in the day, he said casually. Right around the thirteenth century. This was yet another of those times that the starkness of Cas not being human shone through. Dean and Sam shared an amused grin as they drew closer to the exit. 

“Wasn’t Dante Italian?” Dean asked, resulting in one of his brother’s slightly impressed you-actually-know-that glances. “Why is he haunting a church in Paris?”

“I told you it was said that he liked to spend time here,” Sam reminded him and Cas was nodding.

“He always used to talk about this building. Said it was the holiest place he’d found yet.” By now the three were back on the sidewalk and cotton candy from a street vendor wafted the incense from the church out of Dean’s nose.

“I’m rather glad I got to see it, actually,” Cas said. “Even if I had to be kidnapped to do so.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dean sighed. “Let’s get the hell home.” Both Sam and Cas turned to look at him. 

“Really?” Sam asked. “How often are we going to be in Paris? I kind of want to at least look around a little.” Dean’s eyes rolled up and then to the side. They were standing at the top of a hill that overlooked what appeared to be a tourist trap, a winding cobbled street that was lined with shops closing for the night, and nightclubs that were just getting ready to open. He could hear saxophone music coming from somewhere, and there were still vendors selling their art off the backs of bicycles. Sam would want to soak up the culture or whatever one did in places like this. 

Dean looked over at Cas now, hoping he would at least want to get back to familiar territory, after the day he’d had. Oh no. Those were his puppy dog eyes if Dean had ever seen them. 

“Seriously?” Dean asked, his shoulders already drooping in defeat. Cas leaned in and answered him in a low voice. 

“Isn’t this the city of love?” 

Dean had to close his eyes for a moment as he heard Sam’s soft snicker. 

“You’ve been watching too many chick flicks, man.” 

It was determined that they would stay for about a day. They were here already, after all, and Dean was clearly outnumbered. Sam broke off on his own, to get a hostel room and some sleep so he could sightsee in the morning. Cas, knowing his human too well, dragged Dean into a bar with a prissy name that actually had Lulu in its title. The interior was kind of cool though, Dean had to admit, reminiscent of a couple of upscale bars back in New Orleans. This he could deal with, and he found a nice little drink made with top shelf absinthe and gin that almost made this whole trip worth it.

Cas sat them in a corner booth, and proceeded to order Dean a late dinner in impeccable French. The hunter stared at the angel in a mixture of intrigue, admiration, and desire. Jazz music was floating through the air, glasses clinked as people lingered over meals, and Cas held Dean’s hand on the darkly polished wooden tabletop. Maybe there was something to be said for a romantic night out together. 

Sipping on his second drink, half his steak already in his stomach, Dean was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Damn, he hadn’t thought anything short of a half bottle of Jim Beam could get him this buzzed this quickly anymore. By the time he was done with his third, Dean was ready to go dancing in the streets. This was an unusually light hearted buzz for him; was it the affectionate blue eyes following his every move, or was being in this city of love actually having an effect? 

Cas laughed at him, a joyous sound, as Dean dragged the angel out of the restaurant and down the sidewalk, hands locked together. White and gold string lights were suspended over the little side streets and low romantic music seeped out of every restaurant they walked by. 

“This way,” Cas urged, and Dean let himself be led, for once able to let go of inhibitions and responsibilities. The two of them strolled the dark city that seemed to be glowing, stopping every few moments for one or the other to kiss the other on the cheek. Once Dean even, in an absinthe induced moment of silliness, brought Cas’s hand to his lips and laid a kiss on his knuckle, then broke out laughing at his own mawkishness. The smile that was beamed back at him though made Dean’s heart soar. 

“Where we going?” Dean asked, able to tell Cas had somewhere particular in mind. Through the soft smile that hung on the angel’s face, Dean recognized the determined gleam in his eye. 

“You’ll see,” he promised. But once Dean looked up, it became apparent where Cas was leading him. Of course. The dork would bring him to the Eiffel Tower. Dean’s head was still delightfully fuzzy but not so much so that he couldn’t pick on his lover as they strolled up a walk with a river on one side of them and some ridiculously extravagant building on the other. The air was freezing but between Cas’s hand grasping his tightly and the remains of those drinks in him, Dean was just warm enough. 

The tower was lit up in all its massive shiny glory, a beacon to all the couples that Dean could see scattered and canoodling everywhere, cold night or not. For a moment he wondered where each of them were from and how long each relationship would really last, then he studied the tower closer. It was just a lot of steel and electricity. But then he glanced at Cas standing by his side and caught the reflection of the tower in those blue eyes he loved so much, and he had to smile.

“You’re a sap, you know that?” he asked the angel, affectionately mocking. When Cas rolled his eyes just a touch and gave him his enigmatic little grin, Dean had to wonder how many times it was possible to fall in love with the same person. 

“One of us has to be,” Cas returned with the grin turning into a tiny smirk, and Dean huffed a laugh and smirked wider in response. He took another gander at the tower, getting rather lost in the romance of it all in spite of himself.

“You’re going to be one of those people that’ll want to honeymoon somewhere cliched like the Bahamas or Hawaii, aren’t you?” Dean asked with a hint of tender ridicule, and he easily leaned into Cas’s side, his cheek brushing the angel’s hair. There was silence between them for the space of a few heartbeats, while the music that seemed to be everywhere in this city wove through the air, flamenco guitar notes this time. 

Cas stepped away from Dean’s side so that he could face him and he gazed deeply at the hunter, his eyes sparkling, before he spoke.

“Dean Winchester, did you just ask me to marry you?”

Dean thought his heart might give out right here in the city of love, right in front of the Eiffel Tower no less. His jaw fell open, he assumed because there were words that were going to come out, probably to cover his tracks, maybe to mock his own choice of phrasing. But as the realization of what he had said so subconsciously sunk home, his heart beat faster, and no words seemed to be forthcoming. 

Cas was still gently staring at him, and a bone deep calm settled in Dean’s gut, any trace of alcoholic influence gone. He finally found his voice, low as it was in the air between them.

“If I did, would it be a yes?” 

“Of course,” was the immediate reply, and the next thing Dean knew his lips were being crushed in a kiss, and that lightning thunder fireworks thing was happening all over again. He clutched back at Cas quite as tightly as the angel was clutching at him, no longer feeling any chilliness around him. There was suddenly no Eiffel Tower, no Seine River, no other couples, hell not even a Paris. It was just them, their hands wound in each other’s hair, their bodies yearning, and their tongues and hearts dancing together.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Dean begged once they broke away, which may have been minutes or hours later. With a business-like nod, Cas teleported them away, both quite beyond caring if anyone saw them disappear into thin air. 

They were now standing in what appeared to be a hotel room, though a nicer one than what Dean was generally used to. A king sized bed with pristine white sheets took up most of one wood panelled wall, the carpet was plush under their shoes, and floor length tan curtains hinted at windows that probably looked over a spectacular view of...somewhere. 

“Where are we?” Dean asked, momentarily curious. 

“I don’t know,” Cas answered, his voice strained as he looked back at Dean in breathless desire. They had a room to themselves, that was good enough for Dean, and their lips collided once more, emotions running wild. 

The trench coat fell to the floor, the light jacket Dean had been wearing was thrown in a corner. As they kissed like they were starving for each other, hands fumbled and tore at clothing as if they were both teenagers. The couple of buttons that had been fastened on his flannel shirt popped off as Cas grabbed at him, his lips beginning to trail down Dean’s throat and over his Adam’s apple. Cas’s breath was hot on his skin and already affecting the room in Dean’s jeans. He undid his belt, then Cas’s, then awkwardly led Cas over to the bed with a hand gripping the angel’s waistband. Cas had to work to shrug out of his suit jacket since Dean was holding him by the hips so he could grind against him. 

“Want you. Need you.” Dean’s mouth murmured into Cas’s neck, its owner barely aware of what he was saying. 

“Dean,” Cas simply moaned in reply, and then he pulled his human down with him as he lowered himself to the bed. Dean kneeled over him, straddling Cas’s hips, finished removing his flannel shirt, then peeled off his tee. All while taking in the sight of the angel underneath him, crisp white shirt still buttoned up, hair messy, lips swollen and eyes dark blue with lust. He looked positively virginal against those stark white sheets, and this thought sent a rush of blood to Dean’s groin. Cas was his, his angel, his lover, his, well he guessed fiancee now, his everything, and a primal desire to claim him washed over Dean. 

The hunter let out a low growl as he rutted against Cas like an animal, but the way the angel was pulling him in tighter, strong hands splayed against his back and on his ass, he didn’t seem to mind at all. The current of desire that constantly ran between them was screaming louder than ever, and Dean’s skin was on fire with it. He wasn’t sure where this night was headed, all he knew was that he _needed._

So he got himself into an upright position on his knees, brought his hands to Cas’s shirt front, and tore. Several buttons flew, one hitting Dean in the cheek, and the rest were disposed of with the next hearty rip. Dean lowered himself to that beautiful skin, addicted to how it felt against his own. 

“Feels so good,” Cas breathed, echoing Dean’s thoughts, and his breath skittering down Dean’s upper back. He bucked up into the hunter, his body clearly wanting as well. Then Cas wrapped a leg around Dean’s hips and flipped them both, surprising Dean a bit but since Cas kept pressing their erections together, he was totally fine with it. He slipped the ruined shirt off the angel’s arms, hands lingering on Cas’s shoulder blades for a few moments. What he wouldn’t give to see those wings come out right now. He had half a thought to ask, nothing was really forbidden between them anymore, but the way Cas was nibbling on the side of his throat while their nipples rubbed against each other’s every so often made speech rather difficult to find. 

“Dean I want you,” Cas begged, his voice plaintive.

“You have me,” Dean soothed, “You have me,” and he held Cas closer to prove it. 

“No,” Cas said, drawing his face back from Dean’s neck now so he could look at the man underneath him, “I want - more. More than what we’ve done so far,” he clarified. He met Dean’s eyes.

“I want all of you. I want to go all the way with you,” he left no room for interpretation. Dean could only stare at him, his heart slowly pounding, his cock throbbing in his pants. Then he pulled Cas back down and kissed him thoroughly, luxuriating in the taste of his angel’s mouth. He wasn’t ready for this, but at the same time he was more than ready for this. 


	9. You May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the way the last chapter was left, does this one really need a summary? *smirks like Dean*  
> Sweet, dirty, hot, with some wings on the side...

Cas’s pants were eased off while he was still on top of Dean, and now the human was shucking his off as fast as he could, having rolled Cas back over. Neither of them wanted to break apart for anything so utilitarian. Dean’s hand reached for Cas’s and held it fast against the mattress next to the angel’s head, their fingers locked together. Their hips rocked against each other, cocks straining for friction. 

“How - how do we want to do this?” Dean had to ask. His blood, his body, was yearning to be one with Cas’s, but he was still a little hesitant. 

“That’s up to you, Dean. I trust you,” came the answer, deep and husky. Dean swallowed, and lowered his forehead to his new fiancee’s. 

“Can I enter you?” he heard himself ask. “You...you know what that means, right?” Cas shifted his hips upwards in lieu of a reply, suggesting that he did indeed know, as this brought his most private of places into extreme close proximity to Dean’s hard cock. 

“I’ve gathered,” Cas added. “I would love for you to enter me.” Dean simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief and trepidation at this. Relief because if Cas had wanted it the other way around, Dean was not remotely sure he’d be ready for that, though he also wasn’t sure he’d say no, and he doubly wasn’t sure which scared him more. Trepidation because he was about to take an angel’s last piece of virginity and there would truly be no going back from this. 

“God, I want you,” Dean breathed, holding himself very still above the sacred body underneath him.

“Then take me,” Cas intoned, moving his hips so as to tempt Dean. These words went right to the blood surging through the man’s cock, but while he might not be experienced in sex between two males, there were certain things he was aware of. 

“We need...we need something,” he got out, his brain trying to function. “We need lube. I could hurt you.”

“Dean,” Cas said with a tender smile, “You won’t hurt me. I can take it.” And Dean realized it was probably true; an angel was obviously tougher than a human, and even if it did tear or anything, he could heal immediately. Still. 

Dean lifted himself off of Cas, receiving an honest-to-God whimper as he broke contact. He leaned down before he slid off of him completely and pressed a kiss to the angel’s hipbone.

“I’ll be right back,” he reassured, trailing his fingers teasingly down Cas’s cock and then his thigh. Stepping quickly into the oversized bathroom, hoping he’d find what he was thinking of, he couldn’t help noticing the huge tub in the corner that would probably fit four people. That...could be interesting...and then his eye fell on its target: a small bottle of hotel lotion. He’d have to be judicious with the amount, but at least it was something.

Walking back towards the bed, Dean’s gaze ate up the sight of his lover waiting for him, still laying crossways on the mattress, gloriously and utterly naked, one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee, balls heavy between them, cock only mostly hard but still huge. Blue eyes eagerly followed Dean’s movements as he came closer, and perfectly sculpted hands reached for his human. Dean was going to try to go slow, he wanted to make this so good for Cas but his cock was throbbing and he  _ wanted _ so badly. 

He settled his body over Cas’s once more, and took a moment to wrap him tight in his arms again, just to feel him and savor the moment. But then teeth grazed his shoulder, fingers pinched his left nipple, and Cas slid his hips as sinuously as he was able to do under Dean’s weight, and the fire flared back and tore through Dean’s belly. He moaned into Cas’s neck for not the first time and he was sure not the last time that night as he reached down and ran a possessive hand down Cas’s side, and hip, and then buttock, encouraging Cas’s other leg to bend. 

The angel not only bent his legs, he opened them wide, giving himself in an entirely new way to Dean, and the hunter’s heart as well as his cock thrilled. Slow, he was going to try to go slow, he reminded himself. He cupped Cas’s ball sack first, loving the heft and the fullness of it in his palm as always, rolling the contents in his hand a bit and earning a small moan and a shifting of hips from his lover. 

Then, still not quite believing he was doing this, Dean brought a single finger to rub over Cas’s taint and continued on to his hole, just testing, petting, getting them both used to the idea for now. Cas’s legs opened wider and his head tilted back, the picture of erotic submission and nobody, human, angel, or otherwise, had the right to look this sexy. Encouraged, Dean started moving his finger in circles over the puckered skin. Was his cock really supposed to fit in that? 

Trying to put all thoughts of anything but his lover’s pleasure out of his mind, Dean stroked and pressed and rubbed his finger over the hole, enjoying the way Cas seemed to be enjoying his exploring. 

“Does that feel good?” he asked, wanting to be really sure before he went any further, because further was, well…

“Fuck yes,” Cas answered, and Dean had to smirk. Okay then. Grabbing the bottle of lotion, Dean carefully applied a thick layer to his finger, then laid it on Cas’s entrance again. He didn’t know if Cas was doing it on purpose or not but the hole was almost flaring, begging, so Dean pushed in. It clamped around his finger at once, a sensation that went right to his cock as he imagined being inside that tightness. 

Another moan from Cas’s throat, and he loosened a touch, allowing Dean to work his finger in deeper. Cas was pushing down, his body wanting more, so Dean did the best he could. This wasn’t so much different from fingering a woman, except for the lack of natural lube and dear fuck, Cas’s hole was tighter than anything Dean had experienced. 

Cas, meanwhile, was already gripping at the sheets with his fists, his hips working lewdly and his eyes, as always, watching Dean intently. His cock was back to full mast, and Dean had the urge to suck him off but he wanted to concentrate on what he was doing.

“Dean,” Cas moaned brokenly through gritted teeth, “I  _ want _ _..._ you.  _ Please _ _._ ” Dean’s breath caught at this. Clearly Cas had enough of an awareness of what he was asking for, and Dean would not be able to deny either of them much longer. He pulled out of Cas’s hole, slicked up another finger with a good dollop of lotion, and pushed back in, extremely slowly. He still didn’t know how his cock was going to fit inside, but he was aware that Cas was determined and he wanted desperately now to give that to him. So after trying to stretch his lover as much as he could with two fingers before Cas actually ripped the sheets he pulled away again and reached for what was left of the lotion.

As Dean slathered his cock while trying not to get himself any closer than he already was to climaxing, he had an idea. Leaning down, he captured his angel’s lips in one more passionate kiss, then gripped his hip and whispered in his ear.

“Move with me,” he said, and Cas’s lust addled brain seemed to barely register. But he let Dean shift their bodies so that the angel was on top of the hunter once more, and then those deep blue eyes opened and bored into Dean’s. Entranced by the stare, Dean had to go by feel which wasn’t difficult since Cas was all too willing to position his entrance right above Dean’s cock. 

“There you go,” Dean encouraged. “Lower yourself onto me. Go as slow as you need to.” His heart thudded as he felt the tip of his cock just begin to slip into that ring of muscle as Cas started to bring his weight down. The next thing Dean knew, bright white stars were flashing behind his eyes and his entire body was trembling, his cock buried in a deep, hot grip he never could have imagined. A drawn out, lascivious groan was dying on Cas’s lips. And then he  _ squeezed . _

“CasCasCasCasCas,” Dean chanted, unable to stop for breath. Damn angel would just impale himself. As Dean’s senses vaguely surfaced, he was shocked he hadn’t come immediately, and he was able to begin to appreciate every millimeter of Cas’s tight walls and the fact that he was well and truly buried inside of his lover. Cas’s balls were pressed into his pelvis, his heavy cock into his lower abs and the angel seemed content to stay there awhile. Dean wasn’t complaining. 

Only just then realizing his eyes were tightly shut, he began to crack them open, the ecstasy almost making it hard to focus. So for half of a second, he thought he must be hallucinating the vision above him. Cas was the most beautiful creature Dean had ever seen of course; if it had taken him too long to fully recognize that, he sorely regretted that lost time. But now, what met Dean’s eyes was nothing short of glorious, all the more magnificent for being at such close range and the intimate catalyst.

Those massive black wings were spread wide, fully feathered like Dean had never seen them, and they were pulsing back and forth just slightly, as if Cas couldn’t quite control them. The sight of them extending from a nude Castiel, the luster of them, the exotic eroticism, froze Dean’s mind even while it threw his very soul into a whirlwind. If any part of him had been retaining any illusions that this was merely a human vessel he was currently balls deep in, those burned away in an instant. 

When he tore his eyes away from the wings, with a monumental effort, then there was simply the look of utter bliss on Cas’s face alone that was enough to stop Dean’s heart. What in the world and beyond had Dean done to deserve the honor of being underneath and inside of and in love with this angel? 

“Oh Dean,” Cas let out, and Dean didn’t think two short words had ever held more love in them. His hands began greedily roaming up Cas’s thighs, over his hips, around his ass, and how had Dean never noticed just how firm his ass was before, up his back, but stopping short of his shoulder blades, of where  _ they _ were protruding from. But then Cas had caught his eye, and he was nodding gently. 

“You may,” he whispered, a trust pouring out of him that eclipsed anything Dean had known, or, he imagined, any human had known. 

They were strong. Of course they were; they were Cas. But they were also soft, just like Cas. Silky and rough, delicate but tough, somehow his wings were all these things at once as Dean’s fingers brushed over their feathers, and dared to reach out as far as his arm would allow. The sheer power they exuded was making Dean drunk again, sending him into a tailspin. Cas began trembling, all while Dean was buried deep inside of him.

“You good?” Dean asked, barely able to find his voice but needing to take care of his partner. The amazement that this beautiful being was truly his as well as the need to claim him was also rolling over Dean once more. Cas nodded slowly. 

“You feel...so. So good. Inside of me. I am yours,” Cas moaned out. And the wings descended onto the bed, flanking the lovers’ bodies, an ultimate gift of vulnerability and surrender. Dean could just feel the edges of them tickling his upper arms.

With a gentle smile, Dean tried moving his hips slightly up into Cas’s, and Cas ground down enthusiastically. His hands were holding onto Dean’s sides, and as Dean found a slow rhythm thrusting up into him, Cas rode his cock, balls lightly slapping Dean on each downward motion. This could have been Dean’s first time ever for all that he could tell of how long he was going to last, and he hated that it couldn’t be longer. But Cas was just so tight, and so willing, and so goddamn sexy moving on top of him, his wings back up aloft and fluttering as his body rocked back and forth. 

Dean, by now driven beyond the brink of madness, exploded deep inside of his angel, holding Cas’s hips down in a vise grip as he rode out his orgasm, pressing their pelvises together almost painfully. He was somewhat aware of incomprehensible sounds escaping him: Cas’s name, half completed swear words, and a lot of groaning. His mind spinning and his lungs heaving, he gradually came down, to Cas laying kisses all over his face. His entire body was gelatin and he looked up at his lover through half lidded eyes.

“Love you,” he mumbled weakly. 

“I love you as well,” Cas’s voice was husky but almost shy. “Can - can I come on you?” Dean was then aware of the throbbing heat of Cas’s cock trapped between their bodies, almost burning Dean’s belly. 

“Fuck yes, wherever you want,” Dean agreed, his tone heavy, sated, but guilty. How had he not taken care of his partner first? Cas leaned further into Dean, and the human did his best to hold him close as Cas’s hips stuttered, once, twice, three times, causing Dean’s cock to slip out of his hole but bringing on Cas’s orgasm, shooting thick hot come all over Dean’s belly and chest as well as his own. There was something strangely right about this, of being marked in the filthiest of ways, after what Cas had given him. 

Dean held the angel close as anything, mess or no, petting the back of his head and stroking down his spine, feeling the wings gradually withdraw into his body as Cas settled from his high. 

“For an angel, you sure like it dirty,” Dean teased, unable to help himself. 


	10. Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was no way they could not take advantage of that wonderful over sized tub...

The water was perfectly warm, and Cas was warm and soft, and the tub was large enough that they could both stretch out, legs intertwined and Cas leaning back against Dean, wet hair sticking to Dean’s collarbone. Dean’s chin rested on his angel’s head, one arm tucked underneath Cas’s, hand splayed protectively on the smooth chest, other arm loose in the rest of the expanse of water. The hunter’s eyes were half closed, and he wanted nothing more than to float here forever, feeling Cas breathe slowly and steadily. 

This was what content felt like, this was what in love felt like, this was what connection felt like, surrender and hope and mine. Dean was still adjusting to these things and he wondered who exactly was teaching whom at this point. 

Cas snuggled in further, wiggling his body against Dean’s like a cat getting more comfortable as opposed to a naked man against his naked lover, and reached for Dean’s free hand. Dean let his arm be drawn inwards, his hand laid against Cas’s lower belly, and pressed there as if being told to stay. He smiled softly, tilted his head so that his cheek was resting on Cas’s hair, and gave his angel a little squeeze. They sighed almost in unison. 

God, Dean loved him so much it almost hurt. He’d deeply cared about a few people in his life, and could remember a time he thought he might actually spend the rest of his life with Lisa. He’d often wondered if that was really what he wanted, or if that just seemed the thing to do, a way to escape what he’d always known he couldn’t, not really, and what’s more, at the end of the day, didn’t actually want to. But he had loved her, even though he’d never said the words. It bothered her, he could tell, but she seemed to accept it as part of what he could give, that he would never be totally, fully hers. People generally called that settling. 

That was the closest Dean had been to that happily ever after, that fantasy that two people could stay in love for a lifetime. If there was even some magical ‘in love’ feeling. The preposterous notion that two people could be made for each other. Dean sure as hell knew better than that. And yet…

As he lay here in a tub full of warm water (which shouldn’t still be this warm, and he had a feeling that Cas was having something to do with that), in a hotel room that he still didn't know or care exactly where it was, holding this utterly perfect being that wasn’t really perfect, not by a long shot, but that loved him with a force that literally had helped shape the course of the world, well, Dean was coming to terms with the idea that maybe some things were meant to work out. Maybe this happiness could actually be his. 

Before his cynicism could rear its ugly head and contradict this hope, Cas’s voice crept into his ears, cozy and warm just like the water.

“So...marriage,” Cas’s tongue tried out the word. Dean blinked softly as one of his thumbs stroked the skin in the center of Cas’s chest, patiently waiting for the rest of what the angel might say. 

“It’s an interesting human concept,” Cas continued, his thoughts clearly meandering. “A ritual of undying love, a representation of a lifelong bond that can’t be broken.” Dean stopped himself from correcting him that it could very much be broken and often was, remembering how idealistic Cas tended to be, and that he was merely describing the romantic version of marriage. A far cry from the farce of an institution and a useless piece of paper that Dean had always mockingly thought of it as. 

“Yeah,” he acknowledged instead, the angel’s words and gentle sincerity making him perhaps reevaluate his harsh attitude.

“I guess it is,” Dean added, continuing to rub his cheek into the messy dark hair underneath it. The world was beautiful when it was slowed down like this and it was just them. 

“So what’s so different about being married than how we are now?” Cas wanted to know. Even though Dean couldn’t look into his eyes at the moment, he could easily imagine the soft curiosity that would be pooling there. 

“Not much,” he admitted. “We...we already have all that.” And thank fuck he’d gotten his head out of his ass and realized it finally, he didn’t expound. 

“It’s more just a legal and official thing to us humans,” he did explain. “We don’t actually have to do it, you know.” Though even as he said this, a seed of doubt began growing; he’d rather started to enjoy the idea of Cas as his fiancee and, if not tomorrow maybe, someday soon being able to call him even more. But whatever the angel wanted would be okay. 

Cas’s skin was sliding against Dean’s under the surface of the water as he twisted his body enough to look over his shoulder at the hunter. Dean caught a glimpse of cobalt eyes as he helped to hold Cas in place in this new position. 

“But Dean, I do want to be your legal and official mate,” Cas came back with, his tone deadly serious and that seed of doubt was gladly strangled. Dean’s heart beat heavily as he soaked in that word. Mate. Somehow beautifully terrifying and eloquently comfortable at the same time. Just like his Cas. Dean’s arms tightened further around the angel, knowing he couldn’t hurt him no matter how hard he gripped, but Cas was continuing to twist around. 

He was creating some delicious wet friction against Dean’s groin of course, his skin as sinfully enticing as ever wherever it was in contact with Dean’s, but the human was doing his best to keep his thoughts sensual as opposed to sexual. Especially as Cas settled his hips over Dean’s as he straddled his lover so they could be face to face. Inexplicably, Dean felt a stinging at the back of his eyeballs as the power of Cas’s intense gaze bored into his soul once more. What the angel said next did nothing to dampen this sudden wellspring.

“I would love to become Castiel Winchester.” So blunt, so simple, so open. 

“Oh Cas,” Dean got out around the lump in his throat, any other words being well beyond his ability at this point. The water rippled around them as Dean crushed his fiancee to his body, never so needy as he was right now. But it was okay, because it was just them, and it was Cas, and Cas would always be there to catch him. Cas’s arms slipped around his neck and for long moments they stayed perfectly like that, clinging vines in the still warm bath. 

“I’m glad that pleases you,” Cas whispered into his human’s ear. 

“Very much, my angel,” Dean breathed back and grazed his lips along Cas’s temple. Then Cas, the squirmy bastard, must have decided he liked his original spot because he shifted again so that his back was up against Dean’s front once more, this time just a bit more centered so that his ass was directly over the man’s crotch. His head was tilted back on Dean’s shoulder and their cheeks were nearly flush. 

“You know, we probably should get out of this tub,” Dean suggested. “I’m starting to look like a prune.” That, and that massive bed was sounding better and better. He’d taken a post coital doze before he roused the two of them so they could clean up but a nice long sleep sounded amazing after the last couple of days. 

He felt his hand lifted and then Cas’s soft lips pressing once to each of his fingertips in turn, then the angel did the same to his other hand. He laid Dean’s hands firmly on his upper chest as he finished with them, and arched his back just slightly. 

“Not just yet?” he asked with his voice dropped by an octave, which Dean was pretty sure was by design. He released a deep exhale next to Cas’s ear, and allowed himself to lower the flimsy curtain in his mind that had been able to keep him from getting too turned on thus far. 

All the movement of their naked bodies sliding together thanks to Cas’s shifting had already sent enough blood to Dean’s cock for half of a lazy erection, and especially now that his firm ass cheeks were damn near sandwiching it, the job was slowly being completed. 

“I love how much of a tease you are,” Dean admitted in a soft moan, then proceeded to capture the outer shell of Cas’s ear in his sharp teeth as he began to stroke his thumbs in tiny circles over the nipples that his lover clearly wanted him to play with. A short, sharp, whimpering gasp escaped Cas, a sound that Dean would never tire of, and he watched the angel’s cock swell in the water while he continued his own teasing. 

The buds under his fingers hardened, he sucked the earlobe into his mouth and flicked his tongue over it, and the water seemed to heat up. Cas was now rocking against Dean’s cock, his cheeks creating a hard channel that Dean wouldn’t be surprised if he was able to come as a result of, and he was moaning openly. Dean was continually amazed by how turned on he could get just by watching Cas get turned on, or by bringing about the state himself. 

“I...love...you…” his angel panted.

“I love you too, Castiel,” Dean spoke tenderly, the full name feeling appropriate after the ways their bond had deepened to a bone marrow intensity over the last few hours. A tingle rippled through his body. 

“I want you again, Dean,” Cas begged, sounding tortured in the most delicious of ways.

“Cas…” Dean tried to soothe, and smoothed his hands down Cas’s belly, reaching for his lover’s cock, wanting to give him the pleasure he was so desperately seeking. But the angel was lifting his hips, bracing his feet the best he could on the tub bottom while his head pressed back into Dean’s shoulder for leverage. 

Dean wanted to protest, but he knew how determined Cas was when he wanted something and as Cas’s hands went to his ass cheeks so he could spread them and hover his hole over Dean’s hard cock underneath him, the man wasn’t sure he could bring himself to argue. He was also more than a little distracted by the way this motion lifted Cas’s own obscenely engorged cock above the surface of the water, on display for Dean’s hungry eyes. 

The hunter still worried about his lover, water couldn’t possibly be slick enough to...but then Cas was taking him in again, slowly this time, so exquisitely slowly that Dean almost felt tears in his eyes. Not from any pain, merely from the knowledge that his lover wanted nothing more than to be his, over and over and forever. So he helped Cas brace himself with a strong hand on his angel’s hip, just enough to support him while Cas sank down onto his cock at his own leisure. He had to work to focus to keep his muscles functioning while he did so, because good god, Cas felt  _ amazing _ . 

“You are the most beautiful being in heaven or on earth,” Dean whispered, entranced by the body lowering itself, the cock slowly sinking into the bath again, the bliss etched onto his lover’s handsome face that Dean could just see the profile of. They both groaned in ecstasy once Cas’s ass was flush against Dean’s groan, the hunter’s cock completely buried once more. It was a damn good thing he was keeping him, because Dean wanted the chance to hope he never got used to this feeling. 

After a few pulses of his inner walls, which made Dean go just about cross eyed, Cas intoned, “It’s like you were meant to be inside me,” and the human could only groan in response to this, definitely not about to argue that theory. Dean shifted his hips incrementally in a circular motion after a moment, Cas’s weight just shy of uncomfortably painful. He wondered how long he could stay hard in Cas’s tight hole if neither of them moved and if he would eventually come just from the pulsing and squeezing, not to mention the weight of Cas’s balls pressing into his own. He thought probably, but right now Cas was attempting to lift himself again, seemingly not sure how to proceed. Dean gripped his other hip in a comforting squeeze. 

“Lean forward for me, you sexy fucking thing,” Dean told him, and Cas complied immediately, his feet coming back to hug Dean’s buttocks. As he sat up, his hole impossibly swallowed just that bit more of Dean’s cock, and the hunter’s entire body went rigid for a second. Then Dean fully looked down at where his and Cas’s bodies were joined, and his jaw dropped at the sight of Cas’s beautiful round ass against him as close as it could get, and his hole stretched around the base of Dean’s cock, hungry, wet, fuller than full. 

Gathering his wits, knowing from the moaning that the angel was ready for more, Dean began working Cas’s hips back and forth in his sturdy hands. His lover let himself be moved like this, back and forth, up and down on that dick he obviously couldn’t get enough of. This position didn’t allow Dean to see or feel Cas’s hard cock but he imagined he heard it slapping the surface of the water as Dean’s arm muscles worked his partner’s hips faster. 

“Cas, I need you to do something for me,” Dean forced out on an exhale, admiring the back muscles and where they became the slope of Cas’s ass. 

“I - ugh - yes.” Cas was clearly quite happy with this arrangement, though Dean still rather hated that he couldn’t see his lover’s face. He was already learning he’d prefer more intimacy than this afforded, but dear sweet fucking god this was hot. Dean guessed that’s why he was being able to ask for things like this. He was certainly no stranger to dirty talk, but there was something about Cas that had thus far halted his tongue. But now, as the angel threw himself into discovering his carnal side and was riding Dean on the way there, it was easier to let loose.

“Touch yourself,” the hunter said. “I want you to come before I do.” And as if to prove this, he slowed his pushing and pulling of his partner’s hips, just keeping a pleasant leisurely pace fucking himself in and out of Cas’s hole. The angel’s arm was working furiously already. The bath water was splashing everywhere now, its occupants not remotely caring that it sloshed over the edge of the tub every so often on Cas’s downstroke. 

“That’s it, that’s it, Baby,” Dean encouraged when he could feel Cas getting close by the tighter clenching of his hole. Dean barely had time to begin to speed up his movements again as Cas roared his release. That lewd sound, along with the erratic wild pulsing around the man’s cock had Dean’s balls emptying themselves into the angel’s ass for the second time that night, his orgasm slamming into him. 

“Oh fuck, Cas, fuck,” Dean almost sobbed as he held his lover as tight as he could against his pelvis once more, wanting every drop of his come to stay inside as long as possible. Cas let out a long contented sigh, and suddenly Dean missed him more than he could bear so he slowly eased himself out of him so that he could encourage Cas to turn around. 

He took in the heavy eyelids and the smile of satisfied contentment on the almost slack facial muscles. 

“C’mere, oh c’mere, my angel,” he mumbled as he drew Cas close again to kiss that smile off of those delicious lips. 


	11. Imagine...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean worries too much and Cas is being introduced to Christmas television specials.

Once home and settled back into what passed for normal life for Winchesters, Dean was still reeling from the fact that he and Cas were truly engaged. It had sort of been an accident, a result of being caught up in the moment, but all the same, it was an accident that he knew he didn’t want to undo. He couldn’t do that to Cas, for one thing, and for another, in the deepest corner of his heart, he now often pictured them both with tuxes on (even though he’d sworn in the past that he hated monkey suits), smiling like idiots at each other, and taking vows that would make them husband and uh, well, husband. Dean smiled to himself whenever that image crept into his brain. 

But he couldn’t help the nagging misgivings from creeping in as well; was he really marriage material, was he ready for that step? And there was the whole, ya know, different species thing to contemplate. Cas had become mostly human for Dean, and there was no way for Dean to meet him halfway on that. Cas insisted that he already had when Dean shared these fears with him one dark night with a midwest snow storm raging outside the bunker. 

“You are far from just a man, as you put it, Dean. You are the strongest person I know, across many species.” The TV was on in Dean’s room, and though it was only late November, Christmas specials were already airing. The adorable sentimental fool that Cas was loved them of course, so Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer was playing in the background while Dean and Cas cuddled in bed together, wrapped in a cozy blanket. The angel had finally been talked into wearing one of Dean’s tees and a pair of sleep pants when they were lounging like this. 

“You think far too highly of me,” Dean insisted with a soft shake of his head. 

“Well I would hope I would feel that way about the one I’m going to marry,” Cas said with a smile that hung halfway between smartass and sincere. Dean rolled his eyes, knowing he was just going to have to accept that he might never feel worthy of his angel’s love and adoration. That was what a lifetime together to prove it to each other was for, right? But even therein lay something else that had been heavy on Dean’s mind. 

When he imagined the ceremony, and the vows, there were a few little words that he got stuck on: “till death do you part”. He studied Cas’s handsome face in the glow of the TV, no other lights on in the room, and wondered just how long Jimmy Novak’s vessel would hold the angel before eventually starting to break down. How long would that take? What new body would Castiel end up in someday when he had to? If he’d really made the decision to stay here on Earth, there would probably come a point when this would become inevitable, since he was, after all, an immortal celestial being. 

There was no other vessel for Dean. He could feel his body, with all the crap he’d put it through over the years, starting to show the effects of the knocks, punches, slices, and kicks that were par for the course for a hunter. His back complained when he got up in the morning, and that wall he’d been thrown through just last week by that shifter in Minnesota hadn’t done him any favors. Cas healed him immediately, of course, and having that kind of power at his disposal certainly did help. But Dean knew he was still going to age, was every day, while Cas...was not. 

“You know I’ll still love you even when you’re old and decrepit, right? You must know that?” That Cas, always so eloquent with words. 

“If I even get that far. But then I’m going to die,” Dean said bluntly, no wordsmith himself. “You’re really okay with that?” And on top of that, how quickly would the time between now and then pass for an angel, who had experienced millenia and had slowed down his entire world for Dean? 

“Of course not,” Cas said, while incongruently, an elf sang about wanting to be a dentist in the background. His hand gripped Dean’s a little tighter underneath the blanket. The human felt that otherworldly but familiar gaze on him, and turned his head wistfully towards his lover. 

“Then - ,” Dean began, about to ask if they should fool themselves much longer, playing at this engaged thing, but was interrupted.

“I can ward that off for as long as is possible, you know,” Cas told him. “I don’t think I’d be able to make you truly immortal, but I can do a bit to slow the process.” Dean thought for a moment; it was arguably tempting, but...

“That ain’t natural, though, man,” he said. Cas shook his head softly, sadly, at his human. 

“You and your natural order,” he chided, then his tone grew heavy once more. “I'll respect it of course, but if you won’t accept that offer, then I will gladly lie down with you when it’s your time. Whenever that is.” The weight of these words made Dean’s heart drop in his chest as he stared back at his angel. He didn’t have to ask if Cas was serious, but a part of him wished there could be a chance that he was exaggerating. Dean knew him far better than that though, and felt the devotion pouring out of him. 

“Cas -” he attempted, his voice rough even just on that one syllable. And Cas of course knew him well enough to know where he was heading with that one sound. 

“Do you really think I could live without you, Dean? After all that we’ve been through? How far we’ve come? How we have given ourselves to each other in every imaginable way?” At this last, Dean felt the warm stirring in his belly and couldn’t help a gentle smirk. 

“Well, maybe not  _ every _ imaginable way.” Dean pitched his voice low, and appreciated the soft confusion and then curiosity dawning on his lover’s face. The hunter had realized that this constant current of physical want was something that might, rather hopefully, never slow down and that he had to actively keep his mind out of the gutter when he and Cas were having a real conversation. Otherwise they would end up naked a lot more than they already did. But right now was one of those times that called for gravity so he recentered himself. 

“Cas,” he sighed, “You would have...forever...after I’m gone. Literally. Who knows what kind of good you could do, there’s so many people you could help.” Cas stared at him deeply for a few moments. He gave a small but brief smile at his human’s altruistic attempt. 

“But you don’t understand. I wouldn’t do those things. Even if I would want to, and without your influence around, there’s no guarantee of that, I wouldn’t have the strength. You make me what I am, Dean. The angel that you see before you, the one you’ve come to know, it’s because of you. We’ve seen what I do when left to my own devices and you’re not in my life.”

“Aw, c’mon man, not that again. You’d be fine. You’ve learned from those mistakes. There’s no way it’s just me keeping you on the straight and narrow.” Dean refused to believe that he could be that positive of an influence in anyone’s life. Cas appeared to at least be considering this for a few seconds, with a glance down at the blanket, then up into Dean’s eyes again. 

“Even if it’s not, and what you say is true, I still do not wish to exist in a world where you are not. So when you depart this earth, I will go where you go.” This only served to introduce another brand of worry into Dean’s brain, comforting as the thought wanted to be that he would truly never have to be separated from his Castiel. 

The problem lay in that Dean didn’t know where he was going to end up after this life. He’d be damned, no pun intended, if Cas was going to follow him into Hell, and stay there with him. Dean vowed to himself that if that should be the case, he would do whatever it took to chase the angel away from him, no matter how much it might hurt them both. He would not allow Cas to be defiled by that place. 

On the other hand, if he did somehow miraculously find himself upstairs instead of down, that wouldn’t be so bad. In fact, for him, Heaven wouldn’t be Heaven without Cas there. However, Cas had said that he couldn’t stand to be in Heaven, after all he’d done. And who even knew if the rest of the asshole angels would turn against him again for aligning himself so permanently with Dean? 

So either way the poor guy was screwed. 

“I can’t let you do that, Cas.” An almost devilish smirk grew on the gorgeous angel’s face. He really had been learning entirely too much from his human. 

“Dean, when have you ever  _ let _ me do anything?” Dean cocked an eyebrow at his partner then impulsively buried his face in Cas’s warm neck with an affectionate chuckle. 

Over on the TV, a snowman that Dean would slaughter if it started singing in real life was serenading them with Have A Holly Jolly Christmas. He randomly remembered from his childhood that the creepy thing was called Sam and how he used to tease his little brother, who was like three and used to believe every word Dean said, that he was named after it. Yeah, there was no way he was getting a ticket upstairs at the end of all this. 

Dean burrowed deeper into his fiancee’s welcoming arms, supposing there wasn’t much point in continuing his arguments for the night. Cas would have a rebuttal for anything he could say; he was a sturdy rock that Dean knew he could count on, and he was going to have to try to trust that. All this faith and relationship stuff that he hadn’t dealt with before, that he hadn’t wanted to - it was kind of exhausting. Dean inhaled the comforting scent of his angel’s skin in his own tee shirt and told himself it was all going to be okay somehow. 

“Sorry I made you miss most of the show,” he mumbled into Cas’s neck. “Don’t worry, they’ll air it again three more times before Christmas. At least.” This was going to be Cas’s first true exposure to a human holiday season, and because of that, Dean was attempting to not be his usual cynical self about it. He had told Sam he wasn’t allowed to hang garland around the bunker just yet, though. At least wait for it to actually be December. 

“I hope so,” Cas replied, “I think this one is my favorite so far.” Dean smiled even though Cas couldn’t see it. The fuzzy reindeer one - of course that would be his angel’s favorite. He pulled back enough to look Cas in the face again for a moment.

“I don’t tell you often enough just how friggin cute you are,” Dean told him. A pleased, bashful grin toyed at the corners of Cas’s lips at this. Dean laid a kiss on the slightly scruffy jaw, feeling very close to his lover in the dark while another Christmas special started. 

“Or how awesome,” he said, with a kiss pressed just underneath Cas's ear. There was a faint blush spreading over the angel's rugged features.

“Or how strong,” Dean went on, kissing Cas on the cheek. 

“Or how sexy.” A kiss on the bridge of his nose this time. 

“Or how hot.” His forehead. 

“Or how beautiful,” he said, really lost in the sentimentality as he finally pressed a chaste kiss to the perfect lips. Dean had shifted enough so that he was now in the angel’s lap, curled up against his chest. He was slightly taller than his partner, so this was easier said than done, but Dean straddled Cas’s thighs and hunkered down anyway. Cas began smoothing his hands down his human’s back, and Dean snuggled in even further. Security, of the body and the heart, still felt like a luxury to him. Cas’s breath ruffled Dean’s hair when he spoke. 

“I am curious about something, though.”

“What’s that?” Dean asked. He could hear the opening scenes of the old classic Frosty on the TV behind him. What was it with possessed snowmen that people seemed to like so much?

“You said not every imaginable way...what other ways can you imagine?” His voice was thoughtful, with that touch of naivety that Dean wondered if he’d ever lose. Dean hoped not. The now familiar warmth spread through Dean’s belly, and this time he let it go unchecked. He was also aware of a pressure growing against the inside of his leg that was not of his own body. Cas was not fooling him, not completely. He knew he wasn’t asking an innocent question, and this playful coyness of his had Dean releasing a tiny groan into his collarbone. 

“Did I mention how naughty?” he murmured against Cas’s skin, and tugged down the collar of the shirt to lay a kiss there too. 

“I might remind you, Dean,” came the soft deep voice that did things to Dean’s blood, “That I haven’t done anything this time. You’re the one kissing on me, and you’re the one that climbed on me.” Dean had just been about to scrape his teeth lightly along that collarbone, wanting a taste. Now he paused.

“Are you complaining?” he asked, pretty sure he knew the answer, but enjoying the tease. 

“No.” 

Cas accentuated this simple answer, heavily said directly into Dean’s ear, with a strong grip to each of the human’s ass cheeks that pulled Dean tight against Cas’s groin. A gasp escaped Dean. He never would have been able to imagine any of this not that long ago, but high on the list of things that he couldn’t have prepared himself for if he’d had the chance was how much he loved it when Cas showed his less submissive side. 

Dean’s heart melted at the gentle angel that wouldn’t hurt a fly; he wanted to wrap him up in his arms and hide him from the world and make sweet, tender love to him for hours. But his heartbeat also spiked at the steely warrior angel that had snuffed two shifters at the same time on their last hunt, that was a force not to be reckoned with. This side of Cas made Dean weak in the knees and made him want to surrender to him in the basest of ways. And with Cas’s growing knowledge of all things erotic and carnal, this unexpected instinct of Dean’s was getting easier to lean into and explore. 

The hands tightened on his ass even more and Cas tested holding the tip of Dean’s ear in his sharp teeth for a moment, making the hunter’s hips grind down almost involuntarily. Neither of their thin lounge pants held the heat from each of their rapidly hardening erections back from the other. 

“So, again,” Cas continued, Dean already so turned on that it was as if his lover’s voice was dripping lust, “What other ways can you imagine?” 


	12. Close. Your. Eyes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's been wondering what this would feel like, and he knows he can trust Cas to take care of him. And some more wingkink, in rather a big way.

Dean’s heart was thudding so hard that Cas must have been able to feel it against his own chest where the two were pressed together. Then Dean reached out and groped for the TV remote that was somewhere on his bedside table. He absolutely could not have the thoughts that he was having while children’s voices sang about a snowman. Full dark descended upon his room when his finger hit the power button. In the sudden silence, they could just hear the savage winter wind whipping against the bunker, even through the thick, sturdy walls. 

Cas had asked what other things Dean could imagine doing to and with each other, essentially, and whoo boy, that was a loaded question. They had done a lot thus far, since that day that Cas had wanted Dean to teach him more about sex than porn could, that day that Dean finally had begun waking up. Now, not two months later, he had a fiancee in his arms that he intimately knew the sight, feel, and taste of, that he was madly in love with, and that he knew he could share anything with. 

The skin of his angel’s neck was so smooth and soft as Dean hovered his lips over it, stalling. Then he sat up straighter and his forehead found Cas’s to lean against, his eyes barely able to make out the shape of his lover in the near pitch black. Cas’s hands had moved to his hips, not as tightly as they’d held his ass cheeks but still wonderfully possessive. 

“What if I -” Dean’s voice was rough, husky in his lust and uncertainty. “What if I wanted you to take me?” He simply could not believe he was even mentioning this. It was the dark, and the closeness of their bond, especially heightened by having holed up in his room for the evening to watch Christmas specials, and the serious talking that had just taken place, that he blamed for being able to think about it for real. 

Dean yearned for Cas’s body in a way that had blindsided him when he’d first started thinking of the angel in the physical sense. He’d always enjoyed sex, but until Cas had come along, he’d had no idea it could feel like  _ that,  _ like an out of body experience every time. Cas’s flesh was an endless wonderland, his reactions exquisite, the deep, deep love between the two of them almost more than Dean could bear sometimes. And when he sank into Cas’s body itself, when Cas gave of himself like that to Dean, Dean felt like he was flying off a mountaintop, but he knew Cas would be there to catch him. 

So, Dean had admittedly been wondering what it could feel like to give himself to his lover in that way. To take the person that he loved more than anyone or anything else in this world, into himself, in the most intimate of ways, to connect with them on that soul level that only sex could accomplish. They’d saved each other’s lives countless times now, and brought each other back from the brink of madness and despair, and taken each other to task when it was needed. Dean could not imagine ever feeling closer to any other person, and he supposed this was a way to try to express that.

“Take you?” Cas’s voice came, low and questioning, but Dean thought he must have an idea what he meant. 

“To make love to me,” Dean tried, his volume down to a whisper. “To be inside of me,” he said, almost trembling. Meanwhile their groins, pressed together, emanated a heat that had Dean’s body on edge. No one had ever been able to make him horny like Cas could by barely trying. 

“You are sure?” Cas asked, his tone overflowing with the kind of love and tenderness that Dean barely felt he deserved. The human did take a moment, weighing the enormity of what he was talking about it, in more than one way. 

For one thing, Dean had always considered himself a red blooded American straight male; he loved his car, he loved women, he loved beer. And then he’d realized he loved Castiel, and a lot of stereotypes and walls he’d built up had crumbled against that devoted blue eyed stare. This was a final frontier of sorts, the last shred of what Dean once upon a time would have considered his manhood. But in Cas’s arms, with the angel’s breath warm on his cheeks and the lump in Dean’s throat, that outdated notion was well on its way out the door. 

The other misgiving Dean couldn’t help having was, put simply, nerves. He swallowed as he concentrated on Cas’s hard member pushing against his own through cotton sleep pants. He absolutely adored his fiancee’s cock and how large it was; he’d been getting better at fitting more into his mouth during blowjobs, and the press of it against his thigh or hip never failed to turn him on even more. But the idea of taking that monster thing into his...part of Dean really wanted to see if he could, and the other part would be content to top for the rest of their lives together. 

“I want to try,” he told Cas now. “I trust you,” he echoed the words that Cas had said to him so many times. He felt those hands move from his hips to his back, then up to his shoulder blades.

“I am honored,” Cas said softly, his tone serious, and Dean sank further into him. Cas’s lips were on his then, and Dean had almost forgotten how good the angel had gotten at kissing. As his mouth was nibbled on, and his tongue absolutely violated, his body alternately relaxed and caught fire. He was putty in his lover’s hands already, and he had no inclination to fight it. Dean’s shirt was stripped off, and fingertips that he swore held lightning danced across his skin. That was the thing about being with an angel; for all he knew, Cas could have been using some celestial powers. Dean was happy to surrender to him no matter what. He did truly trust him.

“I love you,” Dean made sure he said before he figured he’d be incapable of speech. 

“I love you too, Dean,” Cas’s voice was beautifully tender in his ear, even as his hand had begun working the human’s cock through the cotton. 

“More than you can conceive,” he added, his other hand sliding into Dean’s pants and caressing his hip. 

“I don’t know about that, Baby,” Dean nearly sobbed, his hands clutching at the angel’s shoulders. The term of endearment was something that only slipped out at moments of extreme  intimacy, and it still surprised Dean when it did. But Cas never seemed to mind, just held him closer and let him ride the wave of emotion that he wouldn’t allow himself at any other time. 

Dean’s pants were being slid off, and his brain sent up a signal that this wasn’t fair, that Cas was still wearing more clothes than him, and they were Dean’s clothes to boot. So he started tugging at the tee shirt and was rewarded with a chuckle from Cas. 

“You can’t see me, so I didn’t know if it would matter,” he teased. 

“Want to feel you,” Dean rushed as he tore the shirt off and ran his hands all over the skin he couldn’t get enough of. That now-skilled hand was still working his cock and there was no way he was going to...fuck...the realization that Cas, as an angel, would be able to fully see him in the dark and the idea of that just being hotter than Hell hit Dean at the same time as his orgasm. Seriously, how was it this easy to make him climax? He’d come inside of Cas just the night before, and he wasn’t in his twenties anymore. It should take more than some through-his-clothes fondling at this point.

“I love watching you lose control,” Cas said in a husky whisper as Dean came down, his head leaning against his lover’s upper arm, and these words sent a warm shudder through him. He was liquid, at the utter mercy of his angel at this point, and his pants were off before he knew it. 

“I - I should…” he tried, groping in the dark for Cas’s crotch. He still couldn’t see a damn thing; even the hallway light must be out to not be leaking under the door. But he was being pushed away, however gently.

“I can wait,” Cas told him. “I’d rather, in fact,” as his fingers trailed down Dean’s now bare ass cheek, and through the post orgasmic haze he fully remembered what he’d asked for. His heart lurched again. 

“The lube,” he got out. “It’s…” and his hand flailed outwards. He wasn’t even sure if he had flailed in the direction of his bedside table with the drawer containing the bottle in it or not.

“Hush,” came skittering across the skin of his back. “I know, my love,” and at this, Dean’s heart squeezed. He had to shut his eyes even though he couldn’t see anything anyway. Cas’s lips were forging a slow trail down his spine, each kiss sinking into Dean’s soul. Never was a lover more attentive than Castiel. Then he was aware of fingers inching towards his butt crack, even as kisses continued trailing down his lower back. 

Dean’s body was being gently shifted, his hips tugged backwards, and somewhat instinctively he crouched forward on his knees. Whatever Cas wanted he would have, and he could tell by the angel’s spiked breathing he was happy with this position. It was a good thing he was already on them, because Dean’s knees would have given out as Cas kissed the skin where his ass cheeks met his legs, and then, oh fuck, that was that wicked tongue on Dean’s balls. The hunter leaned into his pillow that he was clutching tightly and almost bit it. Then, oh god, and then, there was a slick finger stroking at... _ there.  _ Cas had gotten the lube out with Dean barely knowing about it and that wasn’t good, if only because Dean would like to remember every second of this night. 

This somehow felt so different but so right, and who ever could have known that area could feel so much? 

“This is pleasurable?” Cas checked in as his finger stroked a bit harder and Dean couldn’t help but moan slightly when he answered in the affirmative. He didn’t even know his hips had canted backwards until Cas spoke again.

“You must be enjoying this,” the angel said, and Dean could hear the affectionate smirk in his voice. He was being rather wanton, even if he barely knew what he was doing, but he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. Cas loved him, and wanted him, and it was Cas’s hands on him, and that was all that really mattered. 

“Is this okay?” came the question in that smoky voice just before a finger breached Dean’s hole for the first time. Never in a million years before this would Dean have thought this was okay, but...somehow it was. It felt weird, there was no denying that, but the knowledge that that was a part of Cas, even if just his finger, centered Dean and he tried to focus on the sensations as opposed to the weirdness. After all, Cas had done this and much more for him. 

Cas was certainly using more than enough lube, which helped. When they’d gotten back from Paris, Dean had acquired a decent sized bottle and they’d put it to good use in the meantime. He had never expected his hole to be this sensitive, he had never expected to enjoy the feel of a finger there, and he certainly never expected to be looking forward to something much larger being there. Dean would be lying if he said he wasn’t still nervous; a finger, and oh, now, two...um, wow...still weren’t anywhere close to the size of his lover’s dick. 

He tried to make himself relax, not think about it, but he wanted to think about it, and he could feel himself alternately clenching his hole and releasing it. And through it all, he could hear Cas’s heavy, fascinated breathing as his fiancee tried to focus on what he was doing. 

“Cas,” Dean breathed out, “Baby...that feels good. Don’t be afraid. Keep going.” Even though Dean was still a little afraid. He did his best to arch his back which stuck his ass up further in the air, which made him feel a little like a slut, which he rather surprisingly liked the idea of as Cas’s fingers were working in and out of his asshole. There was certainly an ultimate vulnerability in this, he realized; presenting yourself to your lover in this way. The skin from his neck all down his torso flushed to think of this, but he hardly noticed. 

He had a feeling he was never going to feel completely ready. How could you? And he had the sense that he wanted  _ more, _ as well as that Cas was nearly panting with the effort of holding back. It took all he had to turn his head and try to speak clearly.

“Listen to me. Just do it. Go as slow as you can, for the love of God, but just do it.” Cas groaned out his name, and this somehow made Dean arch his back even more. Did he want it that bad? Well, maybe. He heard the bottle of lube being flicked open, and was thankful Cas had learned that much thus far. The lewd sound of the wetness being slathered over that huge dick was giving Dean a strange sense of anticipation. He could picture it in his mind, and while he usually loved to do so, this was in a new context. 

When Dean had vaguely thought of this potential situation, he’d always assumed he’d be drunk, that he’d have to be at least partially inebriated in order to be willing to do this. Cas’s palm lay against Dean’s rounded ass, and a thumb pushed inside of him, still testing, teasing. He was so glad he was sober though, he was in enough of a daze, his body alight with an ache he couldn’t name. The thumb went deeper, and an awed groan sounded from Cas. 

Dean wanted to beg, wanted to utter the dirtiest requests any angel would ever hear, but his voice was lost in the swirling of that finger inside of him. He keened into the pillow instead, hoping Cas would get the hint. Then finally, oh finally, that beautiful thick cock was sliding along the cleft of his ass, dipping down, slick and hot against his sensitive balls hanging between his spread legs. Dean wished he could see Cas’s face as his lover moved against him. Heat was pouring off of the angel, or maybe that was Dean, he couldn’t tell anymore.

He was now merely a ball of sensation, the dark depriving him of his sight having served to make him hyper aware of just how freaking amazing Cas felt, his hands still roaming tenderly over Dean’s skin as his cock got closer to seeking out its goal. 

“You are mine,” came the intimate whisper, and with even just those words Dean knew Cas was fighting for control. 

“ _ Please, _ ” Dean was able to cry out, muffled against the pillow, trying to tilt his hips back impossibly more. He barely even knew himself anymore, and there was a freedom in that, that this angel that he loved could strip away all of the bullshit and reduce him to this, this quivering mess of need. 

And then the tip of Cas’s cock was there, pushing, pressing, begging for entrance. Dean forced himself to take a few deep breaths with the slight control he still had of his body, knowing he needed to relax as much as possible. Cas was complying with his request, and was moving infinitesimally slowly, a low whining growl rising out of his throat as he tried to sink into Dean.

Nothing could have prepared him for the stretch, for the burning pleasure shooting through him. Dean’s hole wanted to clamp down, but he did his best to resist, to keep himself open for his lover. His lips moved, the idea of words coming to him, but Dean found his mouth dry and his jaw tensed, and he realized he’d been biting the pillow. Cas slid in deeper, opening Dean up in a way he’d never imagined, and the hunter had to sink his teeth further into the fabric to keep from releasing a scream of overstimulation and ecstasy that would have woken up all of Kansas. 

“Dean, Dean, oh Dean,” Cas was on the verge of sobbing, and he pressed his body tightly into his lover’s, one hand gripping a shoulder hard enough to bruise but the human was beyond such trivial sensations. Dean never, never, never wanted to move again; this not knowing where he ended and Castiel began was his version of Heaven, and the completeness of being owned by and belonging to the angel was all he could ever want. 

Dean’s hips rocked back involuntarily, the high he was riding having entire control of his body. Cas let out an ungodly moan as he began to move his hips unsteadily. He was so deep inside of his lover, all Dean could hope to be aware of was him. Then the most delicate of tingles chased across the skin of Dean’s arm, then it tickled at his hip. When it stroked along his thigh, Dean released the pillow because he had to gasp. He knew that touch, he knew that silken feeling, he knew that power along his nerve endings. 

The ends of Castiel’s wings were caressing what they could reach of Dean as the angel began to thrust in earnest, tearing Dean apart in the most exquisite of ways. The teasing magic in the feathers danced along Dean’s skin, threatening to permanently drive the human insane, and he couldn’t care less. Cas was making a cacophony of sounds above Dean, grunts and gasps and nearly screams. 

“Dean,” he strained now. “Close. Your. Eyes.” Dean hadn’t opened them, his face was still buried in his pillow, so this wasn’t a problem. And luckily so, because even through the barrier, Dean could sense the blinding white light filling the room as Castiel could no longer hold his true form at bay. The bulb in the bedside lamp shattered, as did the couple of framed pictures Dean had worked hard to hang on the brick walls as the angel lost himself in his climax. 

Dean had to cover his ears to attempt to not be deafened by the high pitch of Cas’s celestial voice even as he welcomed the new sensation of hot come being emptied into him. He couldn’t hold back anymore, and his hole squeezed instinctively, not ever wanting to release Cas from inside of him. Dean shuddered when there was a touch on his once more hard cock, whether more human or heavenly he wasn’t sure. And just like that he was coming again, barely being directly stimulated, his load spurting out onto the bed underneath him. 

The human’s body gave out, muscles beyond endurance, lungs clamoring for oxygen. The room had gone dark again, and quiet, and through the buzzing in his ears, Dean could just make out Cas’s panting behind him. Dean had collapsed to his side, barely missing the messy pool of his own jizz and Cas had followed, still glued to his back, though he’d slid out of his rather aching hole. A hand reached out blindly and found its mate in an angel’s grip as a heavy, soft, black wing settled over most of Dean’s naked form. 


	13. All That Bother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas at the bunker and Cas is enjoying learning about holiday traditions, one in particular.

Dean’s room was still filled with the tangy scent of lust and burning grace the next day, and so much for that TV that he hadn’t even had that long. He rolled over as he woke up further, parts of his body sore in a deliciously new way, and he could just make out the pale skin of the beloved figure laying next to him almost glowing. Cas was actually sleeping for a change; he must have exerted some major energy the night before. 

The fresh memories washed over Dean, and he was overwhelmed for a moment. He wanted badly to hold his angel close again, to rouse him and glue their nude bodies back together, to revel in that feeling of that skin against his own, even though he knew by now the ache might never be truly sated. He hadn’t thought it was possible to want, to need, to be this close to someone so much. But Cas looked more restful than he ever had, laying there so peacefully, so human, even though Dean knew he was anything but, that the hunter could not dream of disturbing him. 

His eyelashes were so long, Dean noted with affection, the way the dark hairs rested just above his cheeks, and Dean marvelled that something so simple could be so beautiful when it came to his love, to his angel. The curve of the jaw with that perpetual five o’clock shadow, the for once smooth forehead with no worries resting on it, the curled up but relaxed position of that exquisite body: Dean soaked in the sights that he felt blessed to be witness to. He damn well knew he was the luckiest guy alive, and he truly hoped that if he ever began taking this precious being for granted, he’d be put in his place. 

After a nice hot shower, Dean ventured into the kitchen to make coffee only to find it already made, and Sam coming back for his second cup. Well, it wasn’t like Dean had woken up particularly early. He filled two mugs and prepared to head back to his room to see if Cas was awake and wanted some. 

“Some storm last night, huh?” Sam asked as he stirred flavored creamer into his own cup. How he ruined perfectly good coffee like that Dean would never know.

“Yeah, I guess so,” the older Winchester replied. He’d barely noticed, to be honest, with how busy he and Cas had been but that wasn’t something he was going to share. Tap, tap, went Sam’s spoon on the rim of his mug. 

“It’s still coming down out there, for sure,” Sam continued, “But with that wind, there must have been a power outage last night. Or a surge or something.” 

“Oh?” Dean asked, wondering why he should care when everything seemed to be working fine today. 

“Yeah,” Sam added, his expression quizzical. “The lamp in my room shorted right out.” 

“Oh,” Dean replied helpfully, putting a lilt in his tone while he inwardly cringed. He’d thought the bunker walls were close to soundproof but he guessed they weren’t angel proof. 

“Huh, weird,” he summed up, then escaped with his coffee. Maybe sigils on the walls next time would help, or maybe Dean could look into getting a place, just a small cabin or something, close by, just for certain things. He smirked to himself as he thought of calling it their own den of iniquity, and he’d have to make sure there was no exposed glass...because he already knew he wanted to do what had made Cas lose that much control again. 

It took three days for the storm to pass, and while usually Dean didn’t care about being stuck inside as long as he had plenty of beer, food, and porn, and now he had something more satisfying than all three of those combined, now he was getting antsy. It had just tipped over into December, and he had things to do. 

“Let’s get a real tree,” he announced at dinner, earning a look of surprise from Sam. Cas was sitting with them, reading a book on Christmas traditions while the guys ate. Dean had spent a good portion of the day digging out a path to the road from the bunker garage now that the weather had cleared, and he was looking forward to asking his angel for a back and shoulder rub that he fully intended on turning into more later. For now though, Cas was giving him a curiously sad look. 

“Why do trees deserve to die so people can celebrate a holiday?” he asked, closing his book on his index finger to keep his place.

“And when have you ever wanted to go to all that bother anyway?” was Sam’s question. Dean glanced between the two of them, wondering which one to address first. 

“Sam, how often do we have a place to have a real Christmas, and the time to do it, at the same time? And Cas, the trees are already cut down, they’re grown just for this. It’s their...life’s purpose,” he told him, knowing that the guy needed to be able to justify even plant death. 

Cas nodded, seemingly placated. 

“We’ll go together tomorrow to pick one out, yeah?” Dean realized even as he and Cas shared a small smile between them that this was such a horribly cheesy, Hallmark thing to do, but he didn’t care. 

“If you’re getting a real tree, I’m putting garland in every damn doorway,” Sam countered. 

“Hell yeah,” Dean replied. “Do it up! Let’s Clark Griswold this place.” His little brother chuckled at him, his angel gave him a confused little frown, and Dean reminded himself that was a movie he definitely had to show him. 

Later, after the best back rub Dean had ever received, perhaps because there’d more than likely been some celestial healing power put into it, he was moving lazily in and out of his lover, who was spooned into the crook of his body, comfortable and welcoming. Wild sex that made them scream out each other’s names was great, dirty talk and intentional foreplay drove Dean crazy in the best of ways. But he loved these quieter nights, too, when they were both relaxed and feeling close, and with just some gentle nudges and breathless moans, their bodies melded together like they were made for each other. 

They’d gotten to know each other and their reactions well enough that Cas was able to angle his hips just right so that Dean was hitting his prostate on every stroke. And once the human could tell this from the shift in his lover’s breathing, he stiffened his grip on the cock he’d thus far only been idly jerking. They came at the same time, Cas’s arm wrapping backwards around Dean’s middle, and Dean peppering the creamy skin of the angel’s shoulders with tender kisses. 

“So what do you want for Christmas, Baby?” Dean murmured as they lay there afterwards, not moving a muscle yet, trying to hold onto the feeling of perfect contentment as long as possible. 

“Nothing material,” Cas rumbled into his pillow. “Only this. Forever.” 

Dean smiled into the nape of his lover’s neck, the dark hair tickling his nose. It was a good thing he already knew what he was getting the guy. 

Watching Cas pick out ornaments for the tree the next day was worth dealing with all the holiday shoppers, or at least Dean told himself it was. The angel was meticulous about each one, and it was going to be an eclectic mix. Lots of animals, of course, some generic bright baubles, and a few movie characters, with Dean silently approving of the Star Wars ones and equally silently denouncing the more religious ones. He’d told him to get whatever he wanted, after all. While they were out, Dean picked up a new television as well. Couldn’t have his angel missing any more essential Christmas shows. 

The Impala loaded with decorations, supplies, and with an evergreen strapped to the roof, Dean and Cas headed home, holding hands tightly while the human drove. Sam had transformed the bunker while they’d been out. True to his word, he had hung garland, some traditional green and some kitschy tinsel, in each doorway. There were lights that reminded Dean of the ones over the side streets in Paris wound into the railing of the staircase and there were even three stockings, with their names on them to boot, hanging over the fireplace in the main room. Cas’s beatific smile at all of this made Dean’s heart soar like only that smile could. 

A day later, with the tree up and decorated, it really was beginning to look a lot like Christmas, as the song went, around the bunker. Dean and Sam sat at the library table, sipping on hot chocolate that Cas had made for them again while the angel was off watching a holiday show, safe from Dean distracting him, for now. 

“Could have gone bigger,” Dean remarked as the brothers admired the Douglas Fir taking up a good portion of the library, hung with multicolored lights that Cas had insisted on and all the ornaments he’d chosen. 

“It’s almost eight feet tall,” Sam stated with amusement. Dean shrugged a shoulder, not caring if he was going too far with all this. There really was no too far when none of them had gotten many, or any, chances to really, fully, have all the little enjoyments of the holidays. 

“As long as it wasn’t too tall for you to be the Abominable Snowman and put the star on the top,” Dean quipped, belying the attention he’d paid to his fiancee’s favorite special. The younger Winchester shook his head and rolled his eyes good naturedly, clearly happy to see his generally stressed brother slowing down and relaxing for a change. 

“You’ve never cared about Christmas like this,” Sam said, a touch of wonder in his voice. Then he gave Dean his lopsided grin. “He’s good for you.” Dean glanced sideways at his brother. 

“Shut up.” But there was zero bite to it, and Sam just grinned wider. Should he tell him now? Dean knew he might be pissed if he found out that he and Cas were keeping the engagement from him, but it’s not like it was intentional, he just wanted it to be their secret, just for a little longer.

The guys were both surprised to find Cas watching TV in Sam’s room when they called it a night and were ready to head to their beds. He hadn’t done that since he and Dean had gotten together and Dean wondered if he’d done something to offend his angel. 

“Something wrong with the new TV?” Dean asked, ignoring Sam’s confused glance at the word ‘new’. 

“No, nothing at all,” Cas said simply, and stood up from the end of the bed. The credits for the Grinch were rolling. Cas and Sam bid each other good night and the angel followed Dean down the hallway to his own room, the human wondering the whole time if he should ask any more questions. Maybe the guy had just wanted a change of scenery. Or maybe he was mad at Dean for something. 

When they got to his room and Cas sat down in the chair against the wall, Dean’s heart skipped a beat because something must be off. And it had been such a perfect day too. 

“What’s wrong?” the hunter asked, his voice a touch higher than usual. He hated not knowing something, and Cas’s calm demeanor wasn't giving anything away. 

“Nothing,” Cas replied, his hands folded in his lap. Was that one of Sam’s old tee shirts that looked a little big on him, was he trying to piss Dean off? But the open expression on his face told the hunter that he wouldn’t try to manipulate him. Dean didn’t think.

“Something’s going on,” Dean insisted. Cas sighed, and had the nerve to give a little smile. 

“Just relax, my love,” Cas returned. “Get in bed, nothing’s wrong.” The combination of the term of endearment and the honesty in his fiancee’s pretty eyes soothed Dean enough to peel off his long sleeve shirt, exchange his jeans for sleep pants, and crawl into bed, laying his head back on his pillow. He looked over at where Cas was now standing up from the chair, a full blown grin on his face. 

“That’s more like it,” the angel said, and Dean didn’t have time to respond to this before Cas’s lips were on his, robbing him of his worry and his breath and much of his capacity for thought. A good, heavy make out session between them still made his toes curl and his heart race, and he hoped that never changed. Cas kissed him as if he had nothing else to do for the rest of eternity, and Dean surrendered to him without question. When the angel pulled back, lips red and swollen, Dean could only stare, his tongue aching for more. Cas was smiling again. 

“What’s got you so amused?” Dean asked. “Making me think something’s wrong just to take advantage of me?” The kiss may have been worth it but it wasn’t like Cas to play these games. The sterling blue eyes then rolled towards the ceiling, the rest of the handsome face following as the angel looked up. Dean took the hint and followed his gaze. There was a bundle of greenery hung directly over their heads, attached to the ceiling above his bed. What in the…

“Mistletoe,” Cas announced with distinct glee in his voice. He lowered his face and stared back at Dean, looking proud and so ridiculously adorable that Dean couldn’t help but smile back.

“I read about it and snuck off to get some while we were at the nursery for the tree. You have to kiss whoever is underneath it,” he explained. “I wanted to hang it everywhere but I thought that might get weird with Sam. So I figured here was the best place for it, but I needed you under it first.” Cas’s smirk made Dean want to nibble it off of his lips. He leaned forward to do so, but Cas leaned away. Dean’s smile drooped. 

“Nuh-uh,” Cas scolded, sliding further down Dean’s legs from where he’d straddled his lap. “I hung it, you were under it first, I get to kiss you,” he clarified. “Now take all those clothes off so I can get every inch.” 

Dean rushed to comply, managing to yank that oversized tee off of Cas in the meantime, leaving him bare chested in a plaid pair of pajama bottoms and looking utterly perfect. The human only felt a little subconscious as he lay there on ultimate display without a stitch of clothing on, the lights on in the room this time. Cas’s gaze seemed to eat him up, then the angel finally moved in close. He began, not by going back to Dean’s lips as a starting point, but to the old handprint on the hunter’s shoulder, all the way down that arm, back up again the other side, true to his word about not missing an inch. 

Dean relaxed into the kisses, supposing he shouldn’t be surprised that Cas had meant it literally, but then those contrasting soft lips and rough scruff on the angel’s jaw would hit a particularly sensitive spot that made Dean squirm. He could tell Cas wasn’t necessarily trying to turn him on, he just seemed to genuinely want to kiss every bit of him. Still, by the time Cas got halfway down his body, and his breath was dancing along the skin of his hip, Dean had an impressive erection. 

He almost thought Cas might just kiss along that, too, and that would be fine; it wasn’t the sort of raging hard on that needed attention immediately, he could wait. Cas did press sweet kisses down the length, but when he got to the bead of precome just gathering at the tip, without a word or any preamble, he swallowed Dean down like his own candy cane. Dean watched, eyes wide, as in love and lust as ever as his angel expertly sucked him off until Dean filled his throat and Cas drank every drop. 

He took a moment to lick his lips to clean them off, then calmly continued with his mission, ghosting the gentlest of kisses over Dean’s spent balls, then moving onto his thighs, knees, calves, even toes, which normally would have felt all sorts of weird but Dean was too blissed out to care. 

Only then did Cas come to lay next to Dean, his head on the pillow, forehead pressed against Dean’s temple. The human knew he should reciprocate something, he completely wanted to return the favor and most if not all of those kisses on his lover’s body, but right now he was in such a zone that he couldn’t quite bring himself to just yet. He was barely able to lift his arm to wrap it around his angel and draw him closer to his side. Cas reached an arm around his ribs and wound one of his legs over Dean’s, clinging onto his fiancee like a spider monkey. 

Dean’s fading gaze was fixed on the mistletoe above his head as he drifted towards unconsciousness. Christmas was a little different when you had your very own angel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the chance that you don't get the Clark Griswold reference, go watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Right now. I don't care what time of year it currently is that you're reading this lol.


	14. Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas morning fluff, Dean hoping he did well with Cas's gift, because his angel deserves perfect, and then some Christmas night smut, complete with wing kink! What more can you ask for from a Christmas chapter? ;)

It was like he was a kid again, only better. Dean had the vaguest of memories of these kinds of Christmas mornings from when he was a very small child, waking up with the sudden knowledge that it was _Christmas_ and being excited for that mere fact. This was the final proof: he’d turned into a dork. A wishy-washy, sentimental dork. Dean blinked his eyes fully open to see his angel staring back at him, as attentive and doting as he was sure Cas had been all night, watching over him. Becoming a dork was a small price to pay. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas intoned, and never had the words sounded sweeter. 

“Merry Christmas, Cas,” Dean smiled back. He slid closer to his lover to be able to kiss him good morning. He loved Cas’s bed rumpled smell of having cuddled with him while Dean slept, it was another of those tiny intimate details that made the hunter sink deeper every time he noticed them. He sighed in contentment with his head against Cas’s chest, wrapped in the angel’s arms. But it was Christmas, and they had to get up.

Sam was in the kitchen, complete with an apron on, beating some eggs in a bowl and flipping the bacon that was frying on the stove. Dean had wanted to go right to the present part of the day, but his stomach growled now. 

“Morning,” Sam greeted. “I figured I’d make us a real breakfast for a change.” 

“I see that, Suzy Homemaker,” Dean returned, starting up the coffee maker. 

“Don’t worry,” Sam told him, “I’m making you the whole package of bacon. This is just the first round.” Dean paused, not quite believing he was about to say these words. 

“Actually, that’s fine, I’m just going to have a few pieces.” This brought an expected look of curious surprise cast his way from his brother.

Dean knew this might be the oddest thing he’d ever said, turning down extra bacon, but he’d decided he had to start somewhere. It was one of his gifts to Cas, if unspoken; he’d said he wanted him forever. While Dean certainly couldn’t give him that, for the first time he had a reason to try to make responsible decisions concerning his health so that maybe he could be around for as long as he could be anyway. This whole eating better thing was a new concept and would be rough to get used to, but if that’s what made his man happy... 

“Do we have any fruit?” Dean continued, jumping in with both feet. “I think I’ll make pancakes.” 

“Ooh, pancakes,” Cas chimed in. “I do like those.” Foods that the angel enjoyed were few and far between, most of it blandly tasted of molecules to him, but apparently pancakes were on the list, to Dean’s joy. 

“Come help me make them?” he asked his partner, and received a sweet kiss on his cheek as Cas’s arm slipped around his waist. Dean didn’t miss the tiny grin on Sam’s face as his little brother watched them out of the corner of his eye. Soon the kitchen was covered in batter, bacon grease, and drips of coffee, but all three guys agreed to clean it up much later together and they tucked into their breakfast, sitting around the library table, the tree lit up already. It was gorgeous. 

Sam had put on some Christmas music, just to complete the kitsch factor, but it was a healthy mix of old school, Andy Williams and Johnny Mathis, and the cooler stuff, the Boss and Elton John. 

“We’re not really supposed to believe that those are real chipmunks singing, right?” Cas asked at that particular song, amusing both Winchesters as they relaxed for a bit after their meal. Dean soaked in the perfection of the moment with a smile in his heart. Sam had been forbidden to get on his laptop today for anything but playing the music, so that he wouldn’t run across any cases to worry them. One day, just one Christmas Day of peace: the three of them deserved that much. 

“C’mon,” Dean roused them, “Let’s open presents!” He’d waited long enough. 

Sam knew him too well; he’d gotten Dean that Led Zeppelin album that completed his collection of their whole catalog, some top end auto wax for his baby, and he’d filled his stocking with bags of M&M’s and Snickers. 

Dean, in turn, knew he couldn’t go wrong catering to his brother’s nerdy side, so he’d gotten him a subscription to Smithsonian magazine, and, as rather a joke, crammed his stocking with granola bars. Sam was just as pleased as Dean was with his candy. 

Cas’s eyes lit up when Sam gave him the passes to multiple zoos around the country.

“If you liked the zoo here, wait till you see Columbus or San Diego,” Sam told him. Dean envisioned a lot of miles being walked in his future. 

As for Cas, he’d confessed several times in the weeks leading up to Christmas that he didn’t really know how to do this material gift thing. They had both of course comforted him that he didn't have to get them anything, Dean especially adamant that he’d already given him the best present ever, himself, but Cas had still tried. 

So there was an apple pie and a six pack of Dean’s favorite beer under the tree with bows on them, and Cas beamed with cautious pride when he told Dean he’d made the pie. Sam gave a wink at his brother over the angel’s messy hair, suggesting that he may have helped some. Between the two of them, they weren’t quite helping Dean’s newfound resolution to eat better. 

Cas surprised them both with his present to Sam, though. A gift card for a dinner and movie date, and showing him the texts from the girl they’d rescued a few days ago from some vamps just over the state line. In the midst of things, Cas had happened to be the one to give her his number so she could text when the fangs were about to attack. The guys swept in and made quick work of it, and Dean had thought that the brunette was glancing a lot at Sam, but that wasn’t unusual and they’d had to head out quickly on another lead. 

Apparently Cas had kept in touch with, what was her name, ah yes, Emily, and he showed Sam his phone now. Dean, ever the nosy brother, read over Sam’s shoulder. 

_‘Sam’s been talking about you. He thinks you’re gorgeous.’_

_‘Really?? Well, I think he’s pretty cute too...’_

_‘He’s the kindest man I’ve ever met. He would treat you extremely well.’_

_‘Well make sure you give him my number then. Good guys are hard to find’_

“Cas!” Sam’s voice was embarrassed even as it gave away how pleased he was by the turn of events. “You can’t just tell a girl…” he trailed off, and was big little Sammy blushing? Oh this was rich. Cas’s brow dipped in some confusion. 

“I thought I was being subtle,” he told Sam. “You’ve been talking about her so much.” Dean was about to pick on his brother for not confiding in him as well, but Sam was actually flustered, and it was Christmas; maybe he’d be nice to him this time. 

“Look at you, playing matchmaker,” he said to Cas instead, giving his angel a reassuring smile and noticing how Sam’s eyes shone as he took the girl’s number from Cas’s cell and entered it into his own. Dude was probably going to text her right now too. 

“Thank you, Cas,” Sam said sincerely when he looked back up, still a little sheepishly. 

“I hope you two are very happy together,” Cas beamed. Sam shook his head, not without a grin.

“It doesn’t exactly work like that,” he explained. “I mean, look at how long it took you and Dean to get together.” Now it was Dean’s turn to look embarrassed, and his nerves were jumping as he retrieved the small gift bag where he’d hidden it under the tree. Cas and Sam could not have segued into the next portion of this day in a better fashion if they’d tried, and Dean knew he couldn’t stall any longer. He placed the bag in Cas’s hands, and stood there watching, hoping he’d like it, hoping he hadn’t gone too corny, hoping it wasn’t too much. 

As Cas drew the little black box out into the open, Dean fixed his eyes on his angel’s handsome visage, and his heart gave three wild thumps. Like they weren’t already engaged. 

“I know it might be stupid,” Dean mumbled, “But it’s not like I really did this right. And - and you deserve right. You deserve perfect.” Cas’s eyes were glued to his, soft and curious and so very blue, so very Cas. 

“Well, open it,” Dean urged. He watched Cas flip the box lid up and take in the sight of the contents even as he dropped to one knee, trying his best to pretend that they were alone but also happy that Sam was over there somewhere. 

“Dean, is this…” 

“Castiel, angel of the Lord, will you marry me?” Cas began shaking his head and for a split second Dean was terrified, regardless of what he already knew to be true, but Cas was smiling warmly and widely down at him.

“You’re so silly, and sweet, and wonderful, Dean. Of course I will marry you, no matter how many times and in how many ways you ask.” Then Cas gripped Dean’s shoulder, his left, and pulled him to a standing position once more. He’d taken the ring out of its groove in the box, and Dean could tell by his gaze at it that he’d done well.

He had to admit a certain pride in the gift and the idea of it. Simple silver, with a graceful engraving around the band. It had taken Dean weeks of studying to feel confident that he was having the jeweler put the right marks on the metal, and he hadn’t been able to explain that it was a different language she wouldn’t know and couldn’t look up. The lady followed his instructions to the letter, however and as far as Dean could tell the Enochian was spot on. The only true test was a real angel’s inspection, though.

Dean gently took the ring from Cas and slipped it on his fiancee’s left ring finger, a rush going through him at the symbolism of the action. Cas held his hand up to admire the band, eyes soft and shining. 

“Devotion,” he read the engraving as if it were a sacred text, and Dean released a sigh of relief that it had turned out right while his heart swelled with joy at hearing that deep voice speak that word. There was a matching ring that was burning a hole in his pocket, and Dean brought it out now, silently asking Cas to slip it on him. 

And even though there might be a ceremony and a signed piece of paper to come, this was all that mattered, this made it real between them, this feeling of claiming as the silver band settled around Dean’s ring finger. Overwhelmed by the emotion of the moment, the Christmas tree lights glowing and the music playing low, Dean felt the moisture behind his eyes. 

“God I love you,” he had to say, his voice desperate with the truth of it. Cas’s smile grew wider, then gently withdrew, his gaze still soft though his expression had turned serious. 

“I love you, Dean.” That sentence coming from his angel would never fail to make Dean feel safe and wanted and accepted in ways he’d never thought he would be. Cas caught him in his arms, knowing what he needed right now, as he always did, and they took a few seconds to simply hold each other in the purity of the moment. 

A slow clapping began sounding from over by the table, where Sam was giving them a standing ovation. Dean and Cas drew away from each other to turn towards him. 

“Glad we could amuse you,” Dean quipped. “If you ever tell anyone else how cheesy I’ve gotten…” he left the threat open ended. This was about the most chick flick moment he ever wanted to be caught alive in, and there was still the matter of the actual wedding. 

“Scout’s honor,” Sam vowed. Cas went to stand directly in front of Sam. 

“Dean hasn’t wanted me to say anything,” Cas started, with a slightly disapproving eye cast towards his fiancee; it had been a bit of a point of contention between them. Cas had been wanting to tell Sam almost right away, and now Dean found out why. 

“But I must ask you for your approval of this arrangement,” he said seriously. “As deep as my bond is with Dean, he is your brother and I have no intentions of getting in the way of the connection you had with him first.”

Sam opened his mouth to attempt to reply, even though he looked as if he might not know how to just yet, but the older Winchester interrupted. 

“He’s not my keeper!” Dean was indignant but was swiftly put in place by those sterling eyes flashing at him.

“Yes he is,” Cas remonstrated, his tone gravid. “As you are his.” The weight of his words and stare left no room for argument as the brothers looked over at each other. Castiel wasn’t wrong, they silently acknowledged to each other. Dean quieted. 

“And I would not dream of entering into a union with you such as this without Sam’s blessing,” the determined angel finished. 

“Cas,” Sam said sincerely with a tilt of his head, “I couldn’t imagine anybody who I’d rather see Dean with. Of course you guys have my blessing.” Breaking the serious atmosphere in the room in a flash, Cas lunged forward and grabbed Sam in a hug that would have knocked a smaller man off his feet.

“Why anybody would want into this family, I don’t know,” Sam joked as he hugged Cas back heartily. “But I already think of you as a brother.” Cas just beamed that thousand watt smile at him when he stepped back. 

“Congratulations, guys,” Sam told them. Dean only nodded, his throat oddly tight at watching Cas and Sam bond. Once upon a time, Cas hadn’t been Sam’s biggest fan, way back when the angel had first started hanging around. They’d come a long way.

“So does this mean you’d like me to give you away at the wedding?” Sam asked Dean, his voice teasing. Dean shot him a withering look, even as he privately acknowledged that it probably wouldn’t be inappropriate. It’s not like any ceremony they were going to have would be any sort of traditional. 

“Best man will be fine. Bitch,” Dean returned with love to a wide answering smile on his brother’s face. 

“Jerk,” Sam shot back. 

  
  


“You need to...not lose it...as much as last time…”

The hot length and girth of Cas sliding along the cleft of Dean’s well lubed ass was making the hunter’s hole flutter eagerly and requiring these words to be panted out. 

“That’s so hard to do though, Dean,” Cas moaned softly, his hips moving lazily while he teased his lover. “It feels so good and I just want to go with it. You taught me that.” 

Dean swallowed and licked his lips, barely able to hold onto much control currently himself. Cas was looming over him, nestled in between Dean’s shamelessly spread legs, and the anticipation of being able to watch his fiancee as Cas entered him made the coldness of the hard wooden floor pressing into Dean’s bare back worth it. 

It was late, perhaps past midnight and Sam had gone to bed some time ago. Dean and Cas had not wanted the day to end, so they’d stayed up, spiking some eggnog and talking about what their future Christmas traditions together might be. They already weren’t sure who started stripping who first, both evidently wanting one of the traditions to be getting each other naked under the Christmas tree. 

The only lights on were those of the strings on the tree and the ones draped on the banister. It made for quite a dreamy, romantic glow, especially when it bathed Cas’s perfect skin in a luminescence that made Dean’s heart stop. That was how they’d ended up in this gloriously naughty position, Dean’s body asking, begging, to be filled up again, to give himself to his lover as one final present for the day. 

“I know. I know,” Dean soothed now. “And I love it when you do, trust me. But if you lose it out here, you could destroy the whole place.” He shuddered to think what that beauty of a tree with all its lights and delicate ornaments alone would end up looking like, not to mention the sharp projectiles that would result. 

“I’ll try,” Cas promised with a tight nod, and Dean impossibly fell even a little more in love with him. He then reached down, past his own straining erection and heavy balls to take hold of Cas’s deliciously firm cock. It was going to be inside him again, was all Dean could think excitedly as he guided the swollen head to his tenderest of places, silently telling Cas he was ready. His other hand was on Cas’s left hipbone, and Dean adored the way that even though it was the angel fucking him, he was more than willing to allow Dean to take control. 

Their eyes locked in the glow of the lights, pupils both blown wide as Cas began sliding into that ring of muscle, guided by the trying-to-be-gentle grip on his hip. Dean’s heart stuttered, his gaze held hostage by those dark blue eyes, and he lost himself in them as thoroughly as he always did. His hand went slack on his angel’s hip; in fact most of his muscles did. His legs opened wider, his own hips slid forward, and his arms fell to either side of him. 

Who was he kidding, he was not in control here, nor did he want to be. He relished Cas’s soft grin as his lover sank deeper into him, the angel’s strong hands coming to cradle his upper thighs. Cas’s thumbs dug into the delicate flesh just shy of where Dean’s legs met his pelvis, and this simple touch, combined with the still exotic burn of his hole being stretched, almost had him coming. Though he desperately wanted to keep watching Cas and the way his lover’s face twisted with the sensations he was experiencing as his cock had slowly nestled its way all the way inside of the human, Dean’s eyes closed involuntarily and his neck arched his head back into the floor. His body was sheer electric bliss already. 

They settled into each other, Cas’s left hand finding Dean’s right to lock onto tightly. His new ring pressed into the skin between Dean’s fingers, adding another layer of closeness that was new to both of them. The human was damn near overwhelmed and he had to focus on breathing for a few moments in order to attempt to speak. 

“Cas, Baby...can I see your wings? Can you bring them out without going full out?” Dean’s eyes were wide open again, soaking in the sight of his lover above him and inside of him. He was hard as hell and of course he wanted to come, as he was sure Cas did, but there was something perfectly intimate about this exact moment right here. Which is the only way he’d been able to have the balls to finally ask something so bold of his angel. 

Cas’s lips danced in a smirking smile that managed to be tender and loving as he stared down at Dean, his eyes playful.

“You really like them, don’t you?” he teased, causing Dean to actually blush, a rare accomplishment. He didn’t want his lover thinking it was some sort of kink he needed to be able to get off or anything, it was just…

“They’re so gorgeous,” Dean gushed, knowing he’d never be able to verbally express what the sight of those wings did to him. “They’re so you, they’re so…” 

And he had to stop here, because his breath was stolen by the unfurling of said wings, glossy black erupting from behind his lover, and someday he’d have to ask Cas what that felt like, to his back, to his vessel’s bones and muscles and tendons. 

But for now, as usual, all he could do was stare, his eyes roaming over the erotic majesty that was his angel, whose cock was buried inside of him, making his hole throb even while he held himself over Dean, his shoulders and the rounded peaks of his wings, iridescent in the dim glow, framed by the almost eight feet tall Christmas tree behind him. Of all the beauty Dean had seen in this world, most of it involving this very being that was somehow engaged to him, few things compared to this holy and unholy vision before him now. 

It had been an emotional day, and the whiskey from the spiked eggnog was still warming his blood, and aw hell, the real reason Dean’s eyes were stinging was that he was just so deeply in love with and devoted to this angel...he didn’t need or want the excuses anymore.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he nearly sobbed, his vision going blurry as he couldn’t keep the tears of joy and surrender at bay anymore. He wasn’t even close to coming yet and he felt like he might explode. 

“My Dean, oh my Dean,” Cas whispered, his voice overflowing with his own love and emotion as he leaned in closer, one of his hands slipping under to cradle his human’s head. The softest of brushes caressed Dean’s temple, and he was able to open his eyes in time to see out of the corner of one of them, a black feather whisk away a tear that had fallen. As always, the touch of those wings against his skin sent Dean into an otherworldly spiral of sensation. His hips shifted, his asshole begging afresh.

“Please,” he mumbled, even though he didn’t know how his face had become buried in Cas’s chest. His lover could still hear him just fine. “Move. Fuck me. Please.” 

And Cas acquiesced; slowly, gently, then faster and needier, and with every rhythm change, tips of feathers trickled along the human’s arms, and ribs, and hips, and thighs, alight with power and grace. 

“Cas, Cas, oh Cas, my Cas, mine, oh Cas,” Dean couldn’t seem to keep from breathing out his angel’s name, lost in the moment, the moments...he would gladly stay here forever if only he could. But there was a hand that he loved wrapping around his erection, and a cock that he loved beginning to pulse inside of him, and eyes that he loved telling him with just a look that it was okay, he could let go and his angel would catch him. 

Dean shattered, his hot come spurting onto his already heated skin, ass clenching tightly, instinctively, as a low, deep moaning began drifting into his ear. He was able to feel Cas release inside of him, the angel’s arms locked around him, and Dean held on as tightly, trying to help keep his lover grounded enough so that he could stay just this side of human. The hunter’s hands cradled the angel’s shoulder blades, tips of his fingers barely resting along where the wings protruded from his back, power almost burning him. Neither was sure who was catching whom at this point. 

Once Cas had emptied himself into Dean with a final bone deep shudder, he lowered himself onto the human, having finally been convinced not that long ago that Dean could bear his weight, and his head curled into his lover’s neck. Dean held him gladly, not caring for the moment about the hard floor or the cooling jizz stuck between their bodies. 

He smoothed his hand over Cas’s dark hair, taking note of the angel’s breath huffing along his collarbone on every exhale. He made a mental note to start seriously looking for a little cabin they could escape to for nights like these; he wanted Cas to be able to completely let go sometimes. But this memory of being together under the Christmas tree was one he knew would stay with him for the rest of time. His fingers reverently traced along the thick feathers of the wings that Cas didn’t have the energy to put away yet, and his angel sighed contentedly, his soft cock ever so slowly slipping out of Dean. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas breathed.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.” Dean returned, and pressed an awkward kiss to his fiancee’s forehead. 


	15. Just A Little Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's not too fond of this wedding planning thing, but of course he'll do anything for his angel. And a couple of familiar faces make an appearance.

Eloping wouldn’t be so bad right? It’s not like they needed a fancy wedding, with uncomfortable tuxes, and guests they had to feed, and an overpriced DJ, and all that other stupid stuff people seemed to need just to get married. But then Dean would glance over to see Cas rapturously going over songs or potential locations, and he’d have to correct his frustration. It wasn’t stupid if it was what his angel wanted. There was just a lot more than Dean had ever thought of. 

As many times as he rolled his eyes at each new detail and task-to-do that was uncovered, Dean couldn’t bring himself to give up the idea of a real ceremony himself anyway. He was only doing this once in his life, after all, and he was the type of person that if he was going to bother doing something, he was going to do it right. 

And while Cas would probably accept it and go with him without a fuss if Dean suggested sneaking off to Vegas next week, Dean also knew there was no way he could take this experience from his lover. Cas wanted real, and damn it, Dean would give it to him.

It had been Cas’s suggestion that they wear different colored tuxedos, Dean’s being black and the angel’s being white. It was an image Dean couldn’t help but be transfixed by, especially after Cas added to it. After a particularly annoying day of planning (really, who friggin cared how the napkins were folded?), the two were happy to be cuddling in the dark together, Cas seeming to hold Dean extra tightly in gratitude for everything he was going through for them. 

And then the offer that Dean couldn’t refuse: did he think Cas should be winged for the ceremony? The angel had been thinking about it, and how they might look against the white suit, and he just wasn’t sure. Dean unashamedly scrambled to beg him, unable to get the idea of how amazingly handsome his fiancee would look as they took their vows. He would anyway, of course, but,  _ damn. _

Once that image was introduced into Dean’s brain, he was willing to do anything to make it happen. Which he wasn’t sure hadn’t been Cas’s ulterior goal. Dean struck the word ‘elope’ from his thoughts immediately as he attacked his angel in a passionate kiss. 

“We’ve got a problem,” Sam announced, snapping his laptop shut on the map table. 

“No. Don’t even tell me they had to reschedule the cake appointment again,” Dean said, nearly at his wit’s end. Sam was being kind enough to help out with what he could for them, but now his eyes held a touch of annoyance. 

“Not so much. Bigger fish, Dean. Demon signs in PA,” his brother replied.

“Son of a bitch.” 

Sam called Crowley while Dean drove to a little town about a third of the way into Pennsylvania, where the usual had been reported: dead cattle and sheep, strange storms of thunder, lightning, and snow squalls all at once. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it, Moose,” the familiar Scottish accent complained, filling the Impala on speakerphone.

“Your job.” Cas bit the remark from where he was leaning forward from the back seat. He still showed Sam clear deference in this respect of seating on road trips. 

“I can’t keep them leashed all the time,” Crowley retorted. “They don’t sit and stay as nicely as you do for the boys,” he mocked Cas. Dean nearly growled. 

“Meet us there,” he told the insufferable prat shortly. “If one of yours has gone rogue, you  _ will  _ take care of it.” 

“Yes, sir,” and never had the sarcasm been more scathing, and for Crowley that was saying something. 

It turned out to be not just one but three demons that had decided to go wild, hoping to escape notice or just not caring. They all paid for their fun, one by angel blade, one by demon blade, and one by being banished back to Hell by a king who promised several weeks’ worth of exquisite torture. 

“Thank you,” Cas told Crowley, still somehow polite when the situation called for it, regardless of what history he and the demon had. The four of them stood in a desolate parking lot after the job was done, one lonely but bright street light casting its glow over them. 

“I hate to say it, but yeah,” Dean followed. “We found them a lot quicker than we would have cause they were still a little scared of you.” Crowley wore that usual smug expression that Dean always wanted to punch off of him but wouldn’t know what to do if it didn’t rest on the face of the demon that he loved to loathe. 

“Another win for the Winchesters,” Crowley acknowledged with his own brand of smarm. “Now we can hopefully go back to our own lives and not have to see each for several more months.”

“Sounds good,” Sam agreed with a curt nod and began to turn away. Crowley still stood there, hands clasped behind his back and eyes flickering between Dean and Cas, the most amused of tiny smirks resting on his ruddy face. 

“I feel left out though, I must say,” he announced with a slight head tilt. His gaze rested pointedly on Dean’s left hand and then just as unmistakably on Cas’s, where their silver rings shone proudly. “I know we’re not quite besties,” Crowley continued, “But to not even get a text…” 

Dean shoved his hand in his pocket self consciously while Cas just scowled at the demon.

“That’s cause there’s a lot that’s none of your business,” Dean shot. Crowley bounced once on the balls of his feet. 

“Don’t tell me you’re fooling yourselves that all of Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, and otherwise will not be reeling from such a union as this,” Crowley said. 

They’d talked about that aspect, of course. It wasn’t only that a human and an angel were generally forbidden to mate, but that the two of them had to be quite as well known as they were among the angel, monster, and demon circles. But they’d never let pesky social expectations stop them before. 

“We’ll deal with any complications as they arise,” Cas stated, not to be bowed in the slightest. 

“Together. Like we always do,” Sam put in. Dean was never sure whether he or his brother wanted to gank Crowley more. 

“How sweet,” the demon tossed back dryly. “So when’s the big day?” Dean almost barked a laugh.

“As if we’d tell you,” he said, and realized his mistake instantly. No one had said it hadn’t already happened. 

“That’s fine,” Crowley smirked. “I have plenty of informants, I’ll find out.” He nodded as if done with the conversation, but then held a hand up as if considering. 

“Do please ensure you have some better scotch than what you generally have lying around at your little shindig. Though I suppose I’d better bring my own to be on the safe side,” Crowley told them, his tone one of pitiable suffering. 

And he was gone. Dean’s face was blank stone, and all he could do was blink at the space the demon had vacated for a moment before he found words. 

“Did Crowley just invite himself to our wedding?” Dean asked in belated horror. What in the actual name of Hell.

Winter was starting to turn the corner into spring and with the change of seasons brought a visitor that the guys always welcomed. Sam, Dean, and Cas took their turns hugging Jody hello, Dean privately hoping she might cook them a good dinner while she was around. 

“It’s great to see you when it’s not because lives are in danger,” Sam told the sheriff, who nodded in agreement, her dark hair shorter than ever.

“I had to come over when you finally told me the news about these two,” and she turned her appraising eye on Dean and Cas. 

“Congratulations boys,” she beamed at them, and Dean had to smile widely. Jody was the only person who would sincerely call him a boy anymore, and the only person who would ever call a million year old angel a boy. 

Over dinner, during which Dean realized anew just how good their friend’s lemon pepper chicken was, Jody began questioning them on how the planning was going. 

“You’ve got a hall booked right?” she asked. “And a minister hired?” 

“Uh…” Dean replied, aware that there were some things that still needed to be done, but not quite sure he was ready to have all of it shoved in his face. And that latter subject she’d mentioned was up for a lot of debate. 

“We don’t need a hall,” Cas chimed in helpfully. “We’re having the ceremony outside.” 

“Oh, nice,” Jody smiled. “Where?”

Neither human nor angel could answer her as she glanced back and forth between them. Taking a healthy sip of wine, she forged ahead. 

“I had a feeling you guys could use a just little help,” she said shrewdly. 

“Uh,” Sam inserted, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the type that would enjoy planning a wedding either.” 

“Well sweetie, I’m not,” she returned bluntly, “But I can’t very well let you three lugs do it by yourself now, can I?” Her tone was affectionate, full of the almost motherly love she’d developed for them over the years. Though part of Dean wanted to protest that they would be fine, he instead breathed a sigh of relief that she was stepping in to help.

“Oh, and I need to run something by you, Castiel,” Jody turned to the angel, who was sitting next to Dean of course, slowly sipping on a glass of wine, only because it was of the sweeter variety. The dark eyebrows raised in a question. 

“Claire wants to know if she can be your...bridesmaid...best woman...she wasn’t sure what to call it.” Jody studied Cas’s face in the aftermath of this question, as did Dean. 

His angel’s expression relaxed as a soft smile teased at the corners of his lips. It was beautiful to watch the realization settle in that the girl who not so long ago wanted nothing to do with Castiel, understandably, now felt close enough to him to be in his wedding party. 

Dean knew Cas loved Claire in his own way; it could never truly be as a father to a daughter, but he had been determined to rectify what he could of the horrors that had befallen the child. Cas carried so much guilt for his rather large part in said horrors, and like all of the rest of the guilt the guy carried, it made Dean’s heart heavy to see. He’d hoped Claire would soften towards Cas over time, but he also would have been able to understand if she didn’t. 

So now it was doubly rewarding that Cas was being given this chance, this offering of being folded even further into a family’s welcoming arms. Dean crept his hand over towards his fiancee’s and looped a few of his fingers around his. The way Cas squeezed back belied the wellspring of emotion that was swirling through the angel. 

“Please tell her I’d be honored,” Cas told Jody across the table. The sheriff smiled, clearly satisfied with this turn of events as well. She’d had plenty of trouble with Claire when she took her under her wing, and Dean admired Jody’s never ending strength and love with not only her but also Alex, her other wayward adopted daughter. 

Jody took her last bite of potatoes before swiveling her head over to Sam next to her and resting the side of her face against her palm, elbow propped on the table.

“Now, as for you,” she addressed him, taking the younger Winchester aback just a bit. Sam’s eyes jumped in uncertainty. “I need to hear more about this young lady of yours.” 

A pleased grin spread over Sam’s face and Dean discreetly rolled his eyes at Cas, who looked back at his human in amusement. Things had been going well between Sam and Emily, to say the least, and once he started talking about her, it would take him some time to stop. Dean proceeded to pour them another round of wine. 


	16. Trench Coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas knows just how to drive Dean crazy, and really, it's too easy. Gratuitous kitchen sex ensues. Oh and Dean might be becoming something of a come slut for his angel.

“No, really rare,” Dean was instructing the caterer on the phone as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Like seriously, just a cut of raw steak on the plate. That’s it.”

“Yes, just for these two servings.” Garth and his wife just had to be lycanthropes, didn’t they? There was no way they could not be at the wedding, though; they were family in a weird way, just like most of the guests. 

Dean was partially distracted by Cas stepping into the kitchen, trench coat wrapped around him, which was odd. Winter was nearly over and it wasn’t particularly cold in the bunker that day. 

“Yes, it’s sort of a running joke,” Dean told the caterer patiently, still on the phone. There was no other good way to explain such a request. Cas came to stand in front of Dean, and the hunter now noticed the angel’s bare legs and feet. Dean’s brow bent in a silent question, his attention only half on his partner as he tried to listen to the caterer ramble on, confirming the rest of the arrangements. 

Then Cas’s hand pulled at the loose knot at his waist, and the front of the trench coat gaped open an inch. Dean’s jaw went slack and the voice in his ear went fuzzy as his eyes were filled with a teasing strip of bare chest and belly and...the head of Cas’s swollen cock peeking out of the coat. He wasn’t sure he said anything to the caterer before he hung up and placed the phone on the counter behind him without looking. His gaze was too busy, between that thick begging erection and that smug but tentative look on its owner’s face.

“You,” Dean said, somehow balling up the exasperation, surprise, and rush of hungry lust he was feeling into that one word. Cas’s eyes relaxed, knowing he had his human ensnared even if he had been quite daring with this stunt. 

Dean’s knees hit the hard kitchen floor without another thought. 

“Ohh,” Cas let out in a rush as his cock was engulfed in Dean’s warm wet mouth. Was it really a shock? What had he thought was going to happen if he showed up like that? Damn, Dean’s lips adored the feel of that head slipping past them, and his tongue craved the sweetness of that precome. It was almost better than pie. Almost. Dean’s imagination ran away with the idea of slathering apple pie filling on this lovely cock for him to clean off, or maybe whipped cream, and this helped him work up more saliva. 

He sucked as much of Cas into his mouth as he could, he was getting better at taking more cock down his throat, though he didn’t think he’d ever be as skilled as his lover at doing so. But he was good enough to have wrecked Cas’s composure already, the angel having to reach one hand out to the counter to steady himself and the other carding through Dean’s hair. Blowjobs always managed to be tender things between them, no matter who was giving or receiving. 

Dean’s tongue mapped its favorite path along the thick veins of the cock filling his face, and he shifted his kneeling stance so that he had more stability. This meant he could use his hands to open the trench coat wider so it wasn’t brushing his cheeks. Cas was almost leaning into him now, the angel’s hips starting to thrust just slightly, though Dean could tell he was trying to be gentle. He kind of wished Cas wouldn’t be, it would be an unholy level of hot if he just fucked Dean’s face, but Dean also knew if he really did let loose, there was a good chance he could truly choke him. This made Dean double down on his sucking, as his hands slid around to grip his lover’s ass cheeks. 

Oh the way Cas’s muscles tensed and rippled and the lovely sounds that were dripping from his sexy throat. Dean could stay here all day, though he knew his knees would pay for this later. He should wrap a hand around the base of Cas’s cock and jerk him to completion, he guessed, but he didn’t want to let go of that ass. The tips of his fingers were creeping into the crack, closer to Cas’s sweet spot, and he was nearly gagged as the angel drove himself forward an inch.

“Please,” Cas whimpered. Dean certainly couldn’t ask what exactly he wanted at the moment with his mouth full but when Cas was able to gain enough control for intentional movements it became clear. While Dean continued to work over his cock, though his knees, lips, cheeks, and even tongue were getting sore by now, Cas reached into the pocket of his coat before he slipped it off his shoulders and onto the floor. Dean felt a tapping on the back of his wrist, his skin recognizing the texture of plastic. Still doing his best to concentrate on the job at hand, he removed his fingers from the edge of Cas’s hole and allowed the small bottle of lube to be pressed into his palm. He hummed in aroused interest, resulting in a shudder trembling through his lover’s body. Cas’s endurance had increased somewhat over the last few months together, but it was still only so good. 

Working by feel, determined to bring Cas to completion while still in his mouth, even as the corners of his eyes began tearing, Dean coated his fingertips in lube and then slathered all of Cas’s warm crack with it in turn. Another moan sounded above him, making all his discomfort worthwhile. No matter how many times he gave the angel pleasure, in whatever way they’d chosen that particular day, Dean couldn’t get enough. Squeezing out more lube, dripping some on the kitchen floor because he couldn’t see what he was doing, Dean hummed again, intentionally this time, and reveled in the pulse that swelled through the cock against his tongue. His lover was close. 

Both of Cas’s hands were on Dean’s head now, the angel having widened his stance for more stability himself so he didn’t need to lean on the counter and to give Dean more access to his ass. Fingers ran through the hunter’s hair, unconsciously massaging his scalp, and one hand cradled the side of Dean’s face. As Dean stroked over Cas’s puckered but loosening hole, the taste on the back of his tongue began changing. Dean slid a slick finger past that ring of muscle, drawing a whimpering moan from the recipient, and then boldly added a second finger right away, knowing Cas wanted it. He moved the joined digits back and forth exactly four times before his throat was flooded with thick hot come, and Dean had to work to take it down. He really loved that taste, sometimes he wished he could suck Cas off every day. 

Dean gently laved the spent cock with his tongue, knowing from experience just when the stimulation would get to be too much, and let it slip from his sore, grateful lips a moment later. His fingers were still buried in Cas’s hole, not moving now, waiting to see what the angel wanted.

“Oh Dean, oh Dean,” Cas muttered, and he reached out for the counter once more. Using it as leverage, he pulled his human to a standing position, one of Dean’s knees popping on the way up. His fingers of course left their warm tight spot with this movement, but Dean kept a possessive if sticky hold on his angel’s taut buttock. Those gorgeously dark blue eyes met his as Cas leaned into him and captured Dean’s mouth in a messy kiss. Dean knew his lover must be able to taste himself, but that seemed to be his goal as Cas licked into every corner of Dean’s mouth and oh how Dean loved his dirty angel. 

So caught up was he in the hot kiss that Dean only noticed his pants were undone when Cas’s fingers traced along his stiff and hardening even more cock. They broke away enough for Dean to look down and watch Cas shift into him further, moving so that Dean’s dick, hastily freed from the front of his boxer briefs, was nudged behind and underneath Cas’s spent cock and balls, towards his opening. Cas had to lean up and into Dean to make this work with their slight height difference, his movements clingy and needy. 

Dean’s one hand splayed across his partner’s bare back, while with the other he reached into his still slick crack, index finger pressing at the hole again. 

“Yeah?” Dean asked, his throat rough from the recent abuse, and Cas just nodded vigorously into his shoulder. A throb went through Dean’s cock at the request and permission, and he wished his bed wasn’t so far away down the hall. Then his eye landed on the small kitchen table. What the hell. 

He took his angel’s biceps in his firm but loving grip and began walking them both across the kitchen. If Cas wondered what Dean was doing, he didn’t question it, just exercised that bottomless trust. When Dean pushed him gently into the edge of the table and encouraged him to lay back on it with a trail of kisses down the center of his chest, Cas went willingly. He then waited patiently while Dean untangled himself from his pants and underwear and retrieved the bottle of lube from where it had been dropped on the floor. 

Dean wrapped a hand around his by now needy cock as he returned to the table and his fiancee’s waiting body, watching how that bluer than blue gaze watched his cock hungrily. He was going to fucking _own_ his angel. The hunter, for all his rabid possessiveness, lifted his lover’s legs with the tenderest of touches, caressing the soft skin over Cas’s hamstrings. 

“You are so sexy,” he praised on a husky outbreath, his heart warming at the pleased smile this resulted in on the face he wanted to gaze upon for a very long time yet. With an effort, he tore his eyes away so that he could bend down enough to run his tired tongue once over Cas’s exposed and desperate hole. Dean was not quite ready to try eating out ass yet, but he was warming up to the idea. Maybe he’d attempt it for their honeymoon. 

In the meantime, Cas seemed thrilled to have his fingers back probing at his entrance, freshly lubed up and sliding in easily. The angel clamped down, a sensation that never failed to make Dean’s cock twitch before he could even get inside. But he continued to finger Cas until his lover was writhing on the table top, hands gripping the edge and hole fluttering lewdly. Only then did Dean line himself up and push in with one smooth, long stroke. 

Sam had better not come home from Emily’s early, he spared a thought before he settled Cas’s calves on his shoulders and worked his cock even deeper into that perfect, wet, tight, welcoming chasm. Cas was pushing back, begging for everything that Dean could give, and the human had to take a moment to let the tingle of ecstasy roll over him. His fiancee’s gaze was heavy on him, when it could be in between the fluttering of his eyelashes, and Dean knew it was okay to move when he was ready. 

He gave a smirk as he slowly drew almost all the way out of his lover, watching Cas’s spine bow as he went, his body not wanting to release him. Dean then slid back in even slower, and Cas’s back flattened against the table once more. They were going to have to fuck not in a bed more often. A few more of those, and Dean’s balls were almost throbbing with want, so his hips set a steady pace moving in and out. 

Now that the two had been together for several months, and every time they had sex wasn’t a desperate, needy push just to come, now that their hormones had settled somewhat, they could enjoy a lot more languid movements, and for longer before their balls were emptying. So Dean fucked Cas leisurely at first, enjoying how his angel’s body took him easily, and moved on the table top just slightly. 

“Oh Dean,” Cas moaned softly, “You always make it so good.” The human suddenly decided that if his lover could talk that easily while being taken, Dean must not be doing a good enough job, and with a feral gleam in his eye, he sped up his thrusts. Now the wet sound of slapping skin filled the kitchen, and Dean kept an eye on Cas’s reactions before going further. Not surprisingly, the angel was pushing down into it, his face scrunched up in need and his cock half hard again. That was enough for Dean, and he let himself go. 

Holding Cas’s thighs tightly against his shoulders as if they were the restraining bars on a roller coaster, Dean turned his thrusting into pistoning, slamming into his lover’s hole with a vengeance each time. Sweat broke out on his brow, his lungs began a harsh panting, and his entire body, spreading from cock outward, was on delicious fire.

As for Castiel, his knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the table, his strength enough to keep his body in place no matter what Dean could dish out. This meant, however, that the table was being rammed into the wall on each thrust, adding a layer of vibration to both lovers’ sensations. 

“Fuck, yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” Cas was crying out, if Dean had needed proof that he was enjoying every bit of this. 

“I’m close, Cas, I’m close,” Dean growled, his hips just beginning to stutter. Then before his eyes, like a blessing, Cas’s wings unfurled in a burst, pushing the angel’s torso up from the table to make room for themselves. The black feathers seemingly shimmered with lust, or maybe Dean’s vision was just going blurry. He fought to keep his eyes open so that he could soak in this view that he loved so exquisitely, but when he felt the wings and all their power fold around his body, and Cas spoke those four words, the human lost it.

“Come for me, Dean.” 

His eyes closed, neon colors twisting behind his lids as he filled his lover with spurt after spurt of his seed. Dean’s hips slowed of their own accord, quite beyond the man’s control now, lost as he was in the throws of his orgasm. His heart might just beat out of his chest this time and he was covered in sweat. This was the best workout he’d had in...maybe ever...and with the realization that he could have coherent thoughts again, Dean forced his eyes open. The sight that met them was beyond erotic. 

Cas’s expression was slack, his half open eyelids exposing pupils still blown wide, his smooth chest and belly coated in stripes of white come. And the angel was still holding tight to the edge of the table, which meant that he’d come untouched, just from Dean fucking him like an animal. The human mentally gave himself a pat on the back. 

An aftershock rolled through Dean, and his overextended muscles trembled. But then he was filled with a sense of peace, even as he experienced another aftershock. He collapsed forward, holding himself up the best he could and Cas’s legs slid off his shoulders, opening wide and loose to half heartedly wrap around Dean’s hips. He’d slid out of his angel, so why was he still having these aftershocks? Then Dean recognized the delicate dancing along his skin on his arms and this time across his whole back. Cas’s wings were enfolding him, wringing every last reaction out of him that he didn’t know existed. 

Before he could totally pass out, however, Dean wanted to do one last thing. He used the last of his energy to bend forward the rest of the way and begin to lap up Cas’s come off of the angel’s torso. It was cooling now, of course, but it didn’t matter. It still tingled deliciously on Dean’s tongue, and maybe the wings holding him tight had something to do with that. 

When he felt he’d cleaned up every drop, leaving Cas still sticky but with an amused and tender smile on his face, Dean let himself wrap his arms around his angel’s ribs and hugged him back. As they both came down from their high, the silky wings slowly withdrew, and though Dean hated to see them go, this meant they could go take a shower and clean up. Just as soon as his legs would hold him again. 


	17. Of All Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's known for awhile now that someday Cas would bring home some kind of pet. Just as he's known he wouldn't be able to tell him no. And then there's the matter of a name.  
> Also, we get to meet this young lady of Sam's ourselves.

Cas had lately taken to going for walks in town now that it was getting warmer, which helped give him and Dean some rather needed space since they were closing in on final wedding plans. Dean was also working on a secret project for his lover, so the time apart was working quite well. Until it was the angel that surprised him. 

When Cas returned to the bunker one day, the expression that he wore was one Dean had never really seen before as the hunter flashed a warm grin in greeting up at him. Dean sat at the map table, checking his email, and he noticed Cas’s hair and the shoulders of his trench coat were damp from a sudden spring shower, but he was making no move to dry off. 

In fact, he wasn’t even walking any further into the map room than he already was. He was just staring at Dean with that tentative look on his face, hands in his coat pockets, and Dean was reminded of a child that had done something wrong and was going to try to ask for forgiveness. But what could Cas have possibly done wrong?

They’d been on a good run: the angel hadn’t tried to single handedly take on more than he should lately, and though they’d naturally had some hiccups at this point in their relationship, it had been nothing to cause true strife. They’d been through too much not to trust each other completely and relatively easily work through disagreements. 

Then, as he watched his fiancee in curiosity, something seemed to move under the trench coat. Was Cas hurt, was the next thing that popped into Dean’s mind, was some Alien type creature using him as a host? Dean recalled the Leviathans with fury and he swore, if anything like that happened ever again he’d…

Cas giggled. And squirmed a bit as he shifted his hands in his pockets, almost as if he was being tickled. This was not a guy that was in any sort of discomfort. 

“Cas. Babe. Dude,” Dean said, not feeling like he had to ask what was going on with more than his tone of voice. Cas’s eyes sparkled, and he gave Dean the tiniest of sly smiles as his coat rippled again. Just as he began to slide his hand inside the lapel, a high pitched but quiet _“moww”_ sounded from his person. 

The angel’s smile widened, and he turned back the fold of his coat to reveal a little black furred face topped with pointed ears, a curious little twitching pink nose, and the greenest eyes Dean had ever seen.

“ _Moww!_ ” It wasn’t even big enough to meow properly. Dean’s shoulders fell, the tenseness leaving his body now that he knew there was no threat. He sighed, reminding himself that he’d known this day was going to come, he’d just hoped he’d have a little more time. And seriously. 

“A _cat_?! Really? Of all things?” Cas was aware of how he felt about the creatures. 

“She’s not a thing!” The smile was suddenly gone, the blue eyes on fire, Cas fierce in his indignation on the animal’s behalf. Dean didn’t roll his eyes, he didn’t, he just - shifted them away.

“Cas…” he started, trying to figure out how to word his upcoming arguments in a way that his lover would listen. But the angel was not even going to let him get that far. 

“She was in a box marked free, and she was the last one left, and she was all alone, and it’s _raining,_ Dean!” During the course of this mouthful, Cas’s tone went from gloomy to scolding on the last words. He glared down at his human, all not-quite-six-feet of righteous celestial power threatening to rain upon Dean. And the hunter knew it was a lost cause; they obviously now had a cat. 

He watched Cas lift the damp little body out of his pocket, her body tiny in his strong hand. The needle claws were scrambling for a handhold on his skin but he just held her securely, wiping the water out of her fur. Typically Cas, he’d shifted into soft and gentle as easily as he’d gone fierce protector. Dean’s heart melted in spite of himself, as it always did when he got to witness this transformation. 

He couldn’t even think about using Sam’s possible objections as a defense; dude was a softie that wouldn’t be able to say no to those bright green eyes and that tiny little pink nose and...ugh, the creature was stinking cute. But Dean hated cats. Really.

“We’re gone too much for a pet,” he tried, somewhat lamely. 

“Cats are more self sufficient than most animals,” Cas returned. “I’ll get her an automatic feeder. And lots of toys,” he added, holding the kitten up to his face and speaking as if in promise to it. Her. 

He’d finally come into the room enough to now set the wriggling kitten upon the map table, where she began sniffing at the edge of Russia. She looked so lost and bedraggled; it was little wonder that Cas had been drawn to her. 

“Well, you’d better bathe her, she’s probably got fleas and who knows what. And I don’t suppose you thought to get a litter box yet?” Dean found himself saying. He watched the kitten wobble around on the image of Australia. She barely looked old enough to be away from her mom. 

“Looks like she could use some kitten formula, just in case,” the hunter remarked, mentally making a shopping list. 

“Should I use your body wash to bathe her? She’ll smell just like you then,” Cas asked, sounding pleased. Dean’s eyes closed tight, then opened again.

“No,” he told the well meaning angel. “She needs something milder than that. I’ll...I’ll go get some baby shampoo,” he said, realizing they didn’t have anything gentle enough in the bunker to wash this delicate creature with. 

He looked up from the cat to his Cas and saw that those beautiful eyes were nearly glowing as he watched the kitten explore more of the surface of the map table and start to peer around at the huge room she’d found herself in, her bravery slowly expanding. That was the look that was usually reserved for him, Dean couldn’t help but notice, and he knew he was doomed. Cas was in love. With a goddamn feline. He could already feel the prickling behind his eyes and the tickle deep in his sinuses. He added allergy medication to the growing shopping list in his head. 

“A lot of people lose their sensitivity to allergies with continued exposure,” Sam told Dean as the kitten climbed his tall frame like he was her own personal scratching post, which his brother didn’t mind in the slightest. As predicted, Sam was delighted to have an animal about the place. Meanwhile Dean had just had to shoot nasal spray into his brain, or that’s what it felt like anyway, and keep strictly to his schedule of pills so that his eyes wouldn’t constantly water and he could breathe most of the time. 

“Yeah, and some people die,” Dean shot back. 

“If you were going to die, you would have had worse symptoms by now,” Emily tried to reassure him. She was training to be a nurse, so Dean put some stock in what she was saying. He also had to admire her understated sarcasm, which she wouldn’t have lasted around the Winchesters for very long without. 

“And Sam’s right,” she added with her bright smile, “Just keep taking the meds.” Emily reached out to peel the kitten off of her boyfriend and cuddle the fuzzball for a moment. 

Dean had to admit he really liked the girl. Two years younger than Sam and a rescue from that vamp nest, she fit the damsel in distress category, but was eager to learn more about hunting and monsters and all of it, though Sam was hesitant to teach her. Dean left them to settle that on their own, knowing his brother didn’t necessarily want a partner that would fight alongside him. She seemed to respect Sam’s wishes and be willing to listen to him carefully as she slowly got broken into everything their crazy lives included. 

She was there for him in a way that Dean couldn’t be, and it was so good to see his brother happy and have someone to confide in. He’d always been the one that needed that more. While Sam clearly worried about her being exposed to danger, she was no naive lamb and wasn’t about to be scared off. 

Dean watched her stand on the tips of her toes to lay a quick kiss on Sam’s jaw, and the light this tiny gesture brought to his younger brother’s eyes made Dean further appreciate Emily and her presence in Sam’s life. She was a little thing in stature, and while most people were short compared to his Sasquatch of a brother, Emily barely came up his shoulder. She had an athletic build, long dark hair down to her waist, warm brown eyes, and an easy smile. Sam was head over heels after these last few months; though he hadn’t told Dean as much, an attentive older brother could tell. 

Dean was distracted by his own partner leaning over him where he sat in the library and pressing a kiss to the top of his hair. Jingle, jingle, jingle went the bell toy as Sam waved it back and forth in front of the kitten and she pounced on it with a scrambling of her sharp claws against the wooden floor. Bet the original Men of Letters never saw this coming in their bunker. Leave it to an angel. 

Dean reached out to grasp his lover’s hand and draw him into his lap. Cas, momentarily surprised by the gesture, sat down willingly enough, throwing an arm around his human’s shoulders. 

“So do you have a name for her yet?” Emily asked, sitting down on the floor in a graceful cross legged pose that made Dean’s knees hurt to see. Of course, she and her dork of a boyfriend did yoga together regularly as far as Dean knew. She danced her nails across the wood, giggling a little when the vibrant green eyes jumped to follow those instead of the toy. The pointy stick tail waved in the air after her. 

“She does need a name, Dean,” Cas said almost in reprimand. The kitten had been with them for a week, and the angel wanted him to name her. Probably thought it would make him bond with her or something like that. Dean could admit by now, even considering the allergies, that he almost liked the little thing, or maybe he just liked how adorable his lover’s eyes still shone whenever he looked at her. 

She was certainly fun, and cute, and not all that annoying. When she would play too rough or start to scratch at the woodwork, Cas would pick her up and give her the gentlest stern talking to one could ever imagine, and while Dean logically knew she couldn’t understand, it seemed to stop the behavior for at least a little while. It made him wonder how Cas would be with a small kid, and he decided to shelve those thoughts in his mind for inspection at a much later date.

But an appropriate name for the kitten hadn’t occurred to Dean yet; he’d never named anything, never had a pet. He’d suggested the rote black cat handles: Midnight, Shadow, even Onyx, and Cas had dismissed them all out of hand. Apparently he wanted something more unique. Then why didn’t he name her? Of course, he had never done so either. 

One of the only things that Dean didn’t appreciate about having the kitten around was that Cas insisted that she be allowed in bed with them if she wanted. Luckily Dean barely moved in his sleep so there wasn’t much chance of his rolling over and crushing her, and of course Cas was there and awake to ensure that didn’t happen. This meant that Cas held her and not Dean a lot of the time now and Dean wasn’t exactly jealous of a cat, but...if his lover wasn’t so heart stoppingly adorable when he cuddled her he might have to put his foot down. 

As he watched them that night in bed, Dean smiled lovingly at the two of them together. The kitten had grown a little already with doting care from her adopted fathers, and she had a round belly full of food that would hopefully keep her content for a few hours. She was lying pressed against Cas’s warm chest, and the angel was staring down at her with that endearing little smile on his face that Dean would never not be in love with. Cas stroked her head, making the mite purr. Her meow was still weak and wobbly, but especially in the quiet of night, her purring could fill the room and Dean admittedly rather liked how it could lull him to sleep.

Cas was right, she did deserve a good name. Dean glanced over at his record collection, maybe he could find some inspiration from his favorite bands. If only she was a boy, Zeppelin would be perfect, but for a girl it didn’t seem to work. He promised himself that on the slim chance he ever had a son, that name would be at the top of the list, and he wondered if Cas would be cool with that. Dean’s eyes roamed over his fiancee’s face tenderly, his thoughts wandering before he could bring them back. The kitten. He was naming a kitten. 

Layla. Maybe. The Stones had Ruby Tuesday. Good god, no, any name but that. Angie, though, that could work. Mmm, too casual somehow for her. Lodi, from good old CCR, likewise Suzie Q. That could be cute. Ugh, none of them wanted to fit. 

Dean stared at the sweet and pretty but tough little thing where she was cradled into the crook of Cas’s arm, content to be right where she was. Her fur was two shades darker than Cas’s hair, her sleepy blinking eyes as bright green as Cas’s were blue, and the way she snuggled into the angel made Dean glad they were able to give her a safe home. Then all at once it came to him.

“What about Grace?” he asked, stretching a hand out to run a finger down the fuzzy body. The name certainly didn’t describe the awkward kitten that she was now, since she had nearly fallen off the bed half an hour ago as she’d played with Cas’s feet, but Dean knew she was going to grow into a sleek, beautiful cat that would probably never be far from her rescuer. 

Cas blinked up at him, not unlike a cat himself, and smiled at Dean, no words needed. He must have finally hit on a name Cas approved of. Snapping the light off, he cuddled in closer to his angel with their cat between them, and in the dark found his favorite lips to press the softest of kisses to while Grace’s purring deepened.


	18. A Little Sex Ed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the eve of the big day, Dean's ready to rest after all the preparations. And he ends up unexpectedly enlightened by his angel.

This bed really was one of the best purchases Dean had ever made. Even with all the use that he and Cas had put it to by now, the memory foam still welcomed him as Dean stretched out, folding his arms behind his head. He’d change into sleep clothes in a little bit, for now he just wanted to relax. He deserved to; all the planning and arrangements were done and tomorrow he and Castiel would stand together and be married before the eyes of their friends and the Lord.

Literally. Chuck had agreed to officiate, though it had taken three summoning spells and a coerced messenger angel to get a hold of him in the first place. Dean felt right about this; after all, could anybody really marry an angel other than God himself?

There had been a few stumbling blocks as they’d pieced together what they hoped would be the perfect day, even with Jody’s help. The music, for instance, had been a small point of contention. Who knew where Cas had picked up his enjoyment of pop music, and he’d made a list of sappy songs that Dean wasn’t sure he’d be able to stomach hearing. 

“Dude, I’m not playing Celine Dion at my wedding. No way.” He’d had to put his foot down with certain things even when Cas had turned on the puppy dog eyes. A man had to have some standards. 

“I’ll give you that Taylor Swift song,” he relented. “And what’s that one you wanted, the saying nothing at all one?” Of course Cas had then had to play it for the tenth time, he was so in love with it. 

_ ‘It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart...without saying a word you can light up the dark.’ _

Saccharine sweet as the voice singing it was, Dean had to admit there was a simple beauty to the lyrics and the way Cas looked at him while it played, every time it played...his heart smiled at the thought of his angel looking at him like that during their first dance as husband and husband, and Dean happily gave him that one. He really couldn’t complain too much concerning the rest of the music, as Cas had agreed to walk down the aisle together to the opening of Back In Black. 

The guest list had also proven rough, not because of any disagreements, rather it made both of their hearts heavy as they realized how many people they would like to be there that couldn’t be. It’s not that Dean would want a huge crowd at his wedding anyway, but there were certainly names that he was realizing he wished he could put down but that were no longer among the living. 

Seeing this, and needing to make his human feel better, Cas had devised a way to call in the one favor he had upstairs. Bobby at least would be there to see his oldest boy married. Dean had broken down and cried a little in his angel’s arms when Cas had shared this plan with him; he really was the luckiest man to be loved like this.

Dean mentally reviewed the honeymoon plans before he let his brain turn off. The travel agent that Sam had insisted they use had taken care of everything, all tickets were bought, and their bags were already mostly packed, with sunscreen and swim trunks. Dean hoped Hawaii was as nice as Cas seemed to be sure it was. Never having been on a beach vacation before, Dean knew he’d feel out of his element and he couldn’t believe he’d agreed to such a cliched honeymoon. But really, he could. The second Cas had shyly brought up the website, Dean had known he was going to say yes. Didn’t even utter an I told you so, not out loud anyway. 

But there was one pit stop they’d be making before they took off for the islands, unbeknownst to Cas. Dean had been spending any time he could spare over the last few weeks a couple counties over, working on removing windows and other glass fixtures from a one room hunting cabin he’d found, and moving a bed and the simplest of furniture into. He hadn’t been able to ask for help, since this was private and would remain so as long as he could manage it. Dean was looking forward to being able to whisk his angel away after the ceremony and surprise him. He’d even made sure there was a heavy black blindfold under the pillow so he wouldn’t have to worry about burying his face in order not to go blind. As well as a large, fresh bottle of lube and good earplugs. You know, normal honeymoon supplies. 

The plan was to have three uninterrupted days of pure carnal bliss during which Cas could split Dean open as often and as intensely as he wished and not have to hold back. The idea of it sent a heated, nervous ripple through Dean’s belly whenever he imagined it. And he’d probably take a turn or two as well, he was sure Cas would see to that anyway, but three days of true privacy and no need to wear clothes should give them plenty of opportunities to properly consummate the marriage. Then, if either of them could still walk after that, they’d depart for Hawaii and white sand beaches, mountains, and luaus.

The next couple weeks of Dean’s life were going to be very full indeed. So now, he merely wanted to be still for a bit, and be thankful the planning was done. Tomorrow at this time he’d be able to call that sweet soul that was currently petting Grace’s head, ass looking entirely too delicious bent over in a pair of jeans, his husband. 

“Cas, get over here,” Dean requested plaintively. He knew the angel was enamored of that kitten, but he wanted attention too, damn it. There was now a wicker cat bed in the corner of Dean’s room, which Grace surprisingly used, at least when Cas asked her to. And Dean knew that unless Sam and Emily had been overly willing to watch her while they were gone, Cas would have turned down any form of a honeymoon. 

Cas stood up after a few more moments, straightening the hem of the Aerosmith tee that Dean had never gotten back. Not that Dean minded in the slightest; the band’s wing themed logo suited his lover and whenever Cas wore it, Dean’s memory would flash back to that first wonderful kiss in the Impala’s backseat. The trench coat hung on the back of Dean’s bedroom door most of the time now, unless they were on a case, or that time Cas had surprised him in the kitchen. 

As Cas stretched out on the bed next to him, and the tee rode up just enough for a sliver of pale skin to peek out, Dean was nearly tortured. How badly he wished he could slip his hands under those clothes and climb on top of his lover and satisfy all of his angel’s sweet spots. 

He  _ could, _ technically of course. But for some friggin reason they’d agreed on a period of celibacy for two weeks before the wedding, some sort of semblance of tradition and exercise in self control. What a load of outdated crap. It was only by keeping so busy with the cabin and fantasizing about how incredible every touch and stroke was going to feel when they were finally able to that Dean had been able to not break. But damn how he wanted to; his dick was getting hard just from that hint of skin on Cas’s firm belly. One more day, just one more day, Dean told it, but it didn’t help. 

He watched Cas watch him, his vibrant stare roaming over his body. His lover knew him too well. A soft smirk was growing on those full lips. 

“Is someone getting a little aroused?” Cas’s voice was pitched low, and Dean in turn knew his lover too well to think that wasn’t on purpose. His eyes formed slits as he glared back, albeit gently, at the angel. 

“Don’t talk like that, man,” Dean begged, fighting the urge to reach down and adjust himself in his jeans. 

“Like what?” Cas asked, and Dean swore he batted his friggin eyelashes a couple of times in a mockery of innocence. “It’s just a simple question,” he pointed out. That voice, still husky and intimate even though he wasn’t currently saying anything provocative, was just fueling Dean’s hormones.

“I’m fine,” Dean mumbled, trying to lie to himself just as much as Cas. There was a beat of a pause.

“Well I know that,” Cas returned, his eyes flickering playfully with hidden meaning. Damn this angel; less than a year ago he’d barely known anything about sex, and now he could intentionally tease Dean with the slightest of looks and a few well placed words. Maybe he should sleep alone tonight, that wouldn’t be unreasonable, right? Since it was the last night he might ever do so. Nah. 

“You could touch yourself?” Cas suggested suddenly, his voice edging towards eager. “That wouldn’t count, you know.” Dean could almost feel the intense gaze burning a trail up and down his body in lieu of his lover’s fingers. 

“Cas...” Dean was a hair away from whining as his pants got tighter by the second. Which only got worse as he observed Cas’s hand slide down the angel’s front to run a heavy path over his own swelling groin. Those hips that Dean had gripped so many times now bucked up languidly, the blue eyes fluttered shut, and those sharp teeth bit down on that positively suckable lower lip.

Dean watched, frozen, helpless, as Cas undid the fly and zipper on his jeans and lifted his ass to slide pants and boxers down. Dean had introduced the guy to colored underwear, so it was black cotton that bunched up under his full ball sack. The hunter’s mouth was actually watering. He imagined he could taste the skin of those balls as he laved at them, and feel the weight of his favorite dick on his tongue as it swelled and firmed up in his mouth. 

Dean’s hand was down his pants by now, the fight lost, his own hips shimmying halfway out of the restraining things. He ghosted his hand over his hard begging cock and gasped with the promise of eventual release. His eyes hadn’t left his lover’s crotch and the display Cas was laying out, his fingers wrapping around that thick shaft and thus far just teasing it to full potential. 

As the heat from Dean’s cock soaked into his palm, Cas turned his head to watch him, gaze deep and overflowing with love. Dean’s heart thrilled at the intimacy of this, that although they weren’t even touching each other, they could share this beautifully naughty moment of closeness. Cas proved he was feeling the same way when he spoke, his voice barely above a breath.

“You’re so sexy,” he told Dean. “Just as much as you were that first time.” Dean gave a groan at the memory Cas conjured, then he gave a little smirk. Both of their hands continued working their respective hard ons, both of their visions were torn between admiring each other’s faces and the action happening further down. 

“I’m so thankful you fell for that,” Cas intoned, and it took a second for Dean’s brain to process this sentence but when it did his hand slowed a touch, his dick protesting heartily. 

“Fell for what?” he asked his lover absently, speeding his stroking up again. He greedily watched the now wet tip of Cas’s oversized cock slip in and out of the angel’s fist. Cas had to let out a moan instead of replying. Question momentarily forgotten, Dean got lost in the eroticism that was Castiel jerking himself off. There were few things he loved to watch more than his fiancee as pleasure flowed through him, as he luxuriated in the way everything felt. 

Dean’s own cock was now slick with precome, and he couldn’t help but quicken his pace, just wanting release. 

“Cas I’m gonna come,” he announced, his voice close to breaking. 

“Yes. Please, Dean...me too,” and his voice was equally wrecked. Dean forced his eyes to stay open so he could watch that gorgeous cock release the streams of white come that he wished he could lick off of Cas’s belly. Then he couldn’t anymore as he was gasping through his own orgasm, coating his abdomen in hot jizz. All he could do for a moment was lay there with his spent cock in his cupped hand, aware of his heartbeat slowing down.

A soft towel brushed against his hip and he felt the gentlest of pressures at his stomach. Dean opened his eyes to see Cas wiping him clean, presumably already having done so to himself. He smiled gratefully and took the towel from his lover, finding a dry corner to wipe his hand off on. Cas laid back down, a contented smile on his lips, and even with his muscles like gelatin, Dean leaned in to press a firm kiss to his fiancee’s mouth. Cas kissed him back, both silently agreeing to keep it chaste and innocent and lazy. 

Dean pulled his boxer briefs up to cover himself, shucking off the jeans in the meantime. He noticed Cas had pulled up his boxers but his pants were still around his mid thighs. How Dean loved his debauched angel. He caught Cas’s hand in his as he flopped back down on his side, almost fully relaxed now. Almost. 

“So what did you mean by me falling for something?” he had to ask, his eyes trailing over his lover’s face in profile, the dark lashes, the sturdy jaw, the sculpted chin. That Dean had long ago found that his thumb did indeed fit perfectly in the dimple of. The lips that turned up in a slow smirk. “Other than you,” he added swiftly, tossing another smooch onto Cas’s scratchy cheek. 

“Well, just that, in a way,” the angel answered cryptically. He then worked one arm under his human, to draw him in closer, and held Dean’s hand against his warm chest. Dean cocked an eyebrow in the silent question, not sure Cas could see it but the angel’s smirk was continuing.

“Did you really think I didn’t know about sex, Dean?” he asked now, and Dean realized why he was hugging him so tightly. So Dean couldn’t draw himself up and stare at him in disbelief, as he was attempting to do now. He was able to pull his head back a bit from its place on Cas’s shoulder to blink at him.

“Wait. So you...tricked me?” Dean sputtered. 

“That’s strong wording,” Cas returned. “More like...found common ground.” He nodded in seeming satisfaction at this phrase while Dean remembered that day in a new light. Cas rubbed soothing circles on his fiancee’s lower back. 

“My love,” he explained, turning his head so that he could look directly at Dean, “I’d been pining over you for years. I knew you felt it too, I could feel it.” At this, Dean’s head drooped back onto the safe place of Cas’s shoulder, his heart twisting at the revelation. 

“I had to break the wall down somehow,” the angel continued. “I thought maybe appealing to your more physical desires would help.” There was a pause as he smiled, which Dean could hear if not see in his next words. “And it worked.” 

“You sneaky little angel,” Dean reprimanded with no malice. “At least it makes sense now of how you learned so quick.” 

“With all the porn I watched, you really believed I was clueless?” Cas teased, and Dean rolled his eyes. He should have picked up on some things, he supposed, but once he’d started letting himself fall, he was just happy that he had gotten his head out of his ass and could kiss him and hold him and...he guessed that was kind of the guy’s point. 

Dean squeezed his lover and burrowed closer into him, so thankful that Cas had figured out how to take that step all those months ago. He’d friggin known his angel hadn’t been quite as naive as he’d made it seem. 

“To be sure, I still had to learn for myself,” Cas told him, resting his cheek against Dean’s hair. “And I couldn’t have had any idea of how intense everything would feel. But you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” 

“Aw, Cas,” Dean got out, his mind reeling, reflecting on each moment that had gotten them to this point; the years that Cas knew they were meant to be together and it was Dean that was clueless. He vowed to spend the rest of his life making up for that lost time. Cas reached over enough to snap off the light so that his human could rest up for tomorrow. 

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” Dean heard in the most tender tone as well as felt rumble through his angel’s chest. 

“I love you too, my Castiel,” Dean replied. “So, so much.” And he once more tightened his hold on his lover, not sure he’d be able to sleep any more than Cas would tonight. They were getting married the next day, his besotted heart reminded him. And to think that once upon a time all he’d thought this was supposed to be was a little sex ed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride this has been! From a little one shot to 18 chapters, I never expected all of this (Paris, an engagement, Christmas, a kitten named Grace) when I posted what became merely the first chapter. This was my first posting a WIP as I wrote it, and easily my most successful story to date.   
> There's just something beautiful about these guys and their love for each other that is so inspiring, as well as the wonderful readers I've had while I've been posting.   
> I thank each and every one of you for reading, kudoing, and commenting, and though I have many other writing projects I also want to work on, I'm not done writing Destiel by any stretch of the imagination.


End file.
